Young Girl
by ccdreams
Summary: This is an all human story. Buffy is studying at Rockwell Conservatory, a school centered around art education. She is a talented artist that is passionate about her work. When she meets a new professor, they form an unbreakable friendship that later turns into something more. (Spuffy)
1. Chapter 1: Professor Pratt

Author's Note: I'm fairly new to the fanfiction scene, so please be kind. This story is all human and will involve most of the characters from the Buffy verse. Since I first saw James Marsters play Spike, I have been a huge fan of Buffy and Spike. This story takes place over several years and the Spuffy stuff doesn't come until later. It will eventually be mature, so the rating will stay (M) throughout. Thanks and I hope you like it.

**Young Girl**

**Chapter 1**

Spike's eyes darted around excitedly as he watched new students flow into his structural design class. This was only his second year at Rockwell Conservatory, but lucky for him, he had made a great impression on the dean, allowing him to teach senior level classes. Last year, he had been assigned design theory, and as much as he enjoyed opening the minds of freshman, there had been many taking it for an easy grade. He didn't discount those students, but their passion for sculptures and modern design was not at the level he was used too. Spike wanted students that longed to be creative and adventurous with their art. People that expanded their minds and asked questions like, "What if" and "Why not".

He eagerly checked his watch and stood to close the doors at the top of lecture hall. Though he wasn't a stickler, he had a problem with students being late to his lectures, especially, on the first day. First impressions were essential to his process and if someone disrupted that process, they were getting detention.

Buffy was late. She had missed her ride and now she was running in full sprint to get to school. What made matters worse was the fact that her new uniform was too small for her and the skirt was riding up past her thighs. She didn't consider herself a prude per say, but she wasn't the type of girl that liked exposing herself for attention. She wished her talent would show through more than her looks. At least she had thought to wear stockings. That way, at least her legs would be covered appropriately.

Buffy quickly glanced at her watch and muttered to herself, "two more minutes."

As she rounded the corner intending to climb the stairs to the main gate, her foot caught the edge of the bottom step. She smashed knees first onto the ground, slicing her left stocking, leaving her skinned knee exposed and her glasses cracked.

_Great,_ she thought, _this is exactly what I need today._

She quickly pounced back up, feeling a stinging sensation on her hands and booked it toward her first hour, structural design.

Spike waited at the top of the lecture hall watching as the last few students clambered into their seats. Holding the door open and looking into the hallway he waited for the final bell to chime.

Preparing for possible latecomers, he taped detention slips to the door with a note underneath stating, "If the door is closed, I will assume you are late. Please grab a slip and enjoy detention." He laughed at his note then turned to stare at the clock again.

He began absentmindedly tapping his foot in accordance with the second hand.

_Twenty . . . nineteen . . . eighteen . . . seventeen_, he counted down in his head.

He always enjoyed watching as stragglers came barreling down the hallway in panic toward his door. It gave him a rush to watch as they sprinted to avoid detention. As if on cue, Buffy in all her disheveled glory was running toward his door raising her hand to stop him from shutting it in her face.

_Too late, doll,_ he thought as he slammed it shut.

Buffy saw him leaning against the wall slowly shutting the wide wooden door in her face. She was determined to make it on time to avoid detention, but with no such luck.

_He's such an ass, _she thought as he slammed it in her face.

Immediately, she knew she was getting detention, whether she liked it or not. Reading his well-prepared note only confirmed her suspicions.

_This class is going to suck! What a d-bag!_ She thought to herself.

Annoyed by his rude behavior she grabbed the handle loudly and pulled not expecting the entire class to turn in her direction. Embarrassed by the attention, she quickly stumbled to the nearest seat eyeing her ass of a professor.

_Calm down, _Buffy thought to herself, _I made a bad impression and now I have to somehow fix it._

Spike turned around once he had reached the bottom of the lecture hall and grabbed a piece of chalk from his tote bag. He leisurely walked to the board and began writing his name in cursive.

He spoke as he wrote saying, "'ello students, my name is William Pratt, I'll be your professor for the duration of this year." He continued gingerly by saying, "I expect all of you to refer to me as Professor Pratt when asking questions or seeking inspirational advice." At that, many of the students chuckled at his sarcasm.

Buffy was mesmerized by his accent. She hadn't really been given a chance to take his appearance in, seeing as a door was being slammed in her face, but she watched him with wide eyes. His hair was short, bleached almost white, and slicked back. He wore a skinny navy suit that hugged his body very well and gleamed against his piercing blue eyes. His hands showed off several punk rings that worked well with his attire. And he had two black stud earrings that were casual and yet, sophisticated. His cheek bones, high and prominent, angled down and were accentuated by the lighting. The one thing she couldn't look away from was his smile. It lit up when he talked about art and she knew immediately, that she had judged him too quickly. She rested her face in her hands and zoned out listening to his Londoner accent. She would have to buy a recorder so she could listen to it over and over again at home. Maybe he would forgive her tardiness?

Spike walked back and forth around the first row and continued, "I've got a passion for structural design and while you're in this class, I expect all of you to give me 110%." He turned around to face the audience smiling broadly while scanning their faces. "I'm fairly new to Rockwell, but have years of design experience that can help you during your time here. As we get closer to Christmas, I'll be allowing 5 eligible students to come with me for a short study abroad trip to England. And after that, I will be choosing 1 student to mentor in preparation for their graduation project." He smiled at his fangirl groupies in the front row and watched as their faces turned beet red. Cordelia and Faith, both twins he had the previous year, winked at him, which he ignored. Leaning against the podium near the front he said, "I may not learn all of your names, and I apologize for that, but with 200 students and 4 classes, that's just the way it has to be. I'm passin' around the syllabus so make sure you take a gander. I'm expecting you to be responsible and prepared for my lectures." He smiled brightly and said kindly, "You can leave early and I will see you all back here tomorrow at 9 a.m. sharp." He looked around and found the face of the girl who had been late and spoke directly to her. "If anyone has detention, please meet me in room 215 at 2:30. I will have an assignment waiting for you."

Buffy gave him an innocent look, but in her mind she was panicking, _yeah, that was a bad first impression. Good job, Buf._

Spike realized he was giving the poor girl a hard time, what with her bleeding knee and broken glasses. It was clear she had a bad morning. He stared at her without realizing it and thought, _I'll give her one more shot at a first impression. _Then he pushed it from his mind and started packing up to leave for his next class.

As soon as Buffy received her syllabus she stood to leave, but Angel, her ex-boyfriend stood in her way.

He glared down at her, putting his hand on her shoulder and said, "Hey, Buffy. So it seems you were a little late today. Everything alright?"

She immediately felt a condescending tone in his voice and proceeded to step sideways out of his reach. He had cheated on her with Faith, her ex-best friend, so any warm and fuzzy feelings she once had for him were completely gone. She smiled the pain away and said with slight sarcasm, "I just missed my ride, that's all. But, thank you so much for asking."

He reached down and grabbed her broken glasses, handing them to Faith who came and wrapped her arms around his torso. "You won't be needing these anymore, right Buf?" said Faith in a bitchy tone.

She had always been jealous of Buffy. Mainly because Angel really loved Buffy and he only had sex with Faith to get back at her. Buffy always believed art came first, so he wanted to make her feel rejected like he had when they were together. Angel and Faith were only together now because the Chase twins were considered really easy. Buffy knew Angel still had feelings for her and if she wanted, he would come back to her in no time, but frankly, he wasn't worth her time.

Buffy looked at Faith two steps above her and reached for her glasses, "I need those back."

From the podium Spike watched as Faith proceeded to break them in her hands. "Oops, my bad Buf, must have lost my grip."

He didn't like to see students getting bullied. When he was back home, and much weaker, he would get beat up frequently. Walking toward the confrontation intending to break it up, he stopped when Buffy glared at the pair.

Buffy was annoyed that she would have to get a new pair of glasses on the first day of school, but wanting to stay calm she said, "That's alright, Faith, we all know you can be loose, right Angel." And with that she flipped her hair and walked away.

Spike walked back to his papers and realized he might have misjudged the little spit fire.

_I guess everyone deserves a second chance_, he thought to himself. Then he left out the back entrance hoping to avoid his fangirl posse.


	2. Chapter 2: Oak Tree Onlooker

Author's Note: This story will eventually turn into Spuffy, but for now, their relationship is in the early stages. This is my first time showing two perspectives in real time, so please be kind, it won't be perfect. Thanks! (´･ω･`)

**Young Girl**

**Chapter 2**

Buffy was in the advanced art program at Rockwell and though she was talented, not many people understood her except Willow and Xander, her best friends. Both of which were in other programs, so until independent study after lunch, she was left to her own devices.

Students attending Rockwell were allowed to choose one path to follow, out of the four concentrations offered: Art, Music, History, and Photography. Though photography was considered more technical, what with Photoshop and Adobe coming into play, it was the most "main stream" of all the categories. Since Buffy had always been gifted with sketching, drawing, and painting, she knew her path almost immediately after entering Rockwell. The problem was she loved taking and editing photos as a hobby. Since that didn't give her a pass to join the photography path, she was forced to change her fate.

She began sharpening her sketching skills to replicate photos. Mercilessly studying and fixing her work in order to create a hand drawn picture that could pass as a photo. She had become so good at this skill, that she was eventually offered a place in the advanced art program, the highest honor at Rockwell Conservatory for art students. Thrilled, she accepted wholeheartedly, and decided then and there, that she would make these photo-like drawings her signature. And in the three years she had attended Rockwell, no one else had surpassed her skill.

Her best friends were a totally different story. Willow, nicknamed "Red" for her fiery locks, had always been an extremely gifted pianist, topping every competition held at the school, while Xander was categorized as a miscellaneous student because of his inability to choose a path. However, out of all the academic courses he had taken, he enjoyed Professor Giles' historical English literature the best. So for now, he was labeled as an Art History student.

Buffy, having about an hour until her next class, decided she would enjoy some impromptu sketching in her favorite part of the school, the rooftop garden over Emerson, the music building. She loved drawing in the school's garden because it was very private and she could listen as students practiced in rooms below her.

She could be completely by herself, and get lost in the environment. Buffy also loved that no one knew her secret spot. Luckily, she had never revealed this spot to anyone, so now that Angel and the Chase sisters were after her, she could escape to her little piece of heaven uninterrupted. When she had found the spot in her freshman year, she frequently ate lunch while sketching flowers for practice. Even after becoming friends with Willow and Xander, she enjoyed being one with nature. As an added bonus, on really sunny days, Buffy could kill two birds with one stone, and draw while tanning.

Even now, since the programs were split into different sections and different lunch schedules, most students thought it was odd to fraternize with other students in dissimilar programs. This never bothered Buffy. She was able to create her own fun either by herself or with her best friends. Her mind was split in two though. The one half being creative and thriving when alone, and the other half needing the warmth that only a friend or lover can provide. Her constant struggle with this knowledge sometimes made painting and drawing difficult, but over the years, she was able to put it to better creative uses.

Spike realized too late that he was not alone in the garden. He had been daydreaming when he heard low humming coming from the other side of the garden. He had enjoyed taking breaks here last year and was pleased to know students didn't congregate there during lunch. It was his secret place that no one else knew about, or at least he thought no one else knew about. Now, he figured, his spot was ruined.

He was planning to introduce himself to the student, but realized she wasn't taking a break, but sketching one of the flower beds. He watched from behind a small oak tree so he wouldn't scare or alarm the student at work. Though he couldn't see the person's face through their long butterscotch colored mane, their sketch was so realistic that it could be a photograph instead of pencil to paper. He watched curiously as she poured water over the flowers to realistically display the droplets.

_Impressive, _he thought, _I wonder if she's in the advanced curriculum?_

The more he watched the student, the more he respected their work. Whoever was sketching had mastered their skill, and he hoped to meet the artist one day. He decided not to interrupt her, but instead sit at the opposite side of the garden and drink his coffee in peace. And he decided moving quickly would be for the best, seeing as the artist stopped abruptly to peer from side to side. Embarrassment wouldn't be a strong enough word if she caught him lurking behind a tree watching her work.

Buffy kept feeling like someone was watching her. She hated that feeling, especially when she was sketching. She turned to glare from left to right, hoping to spot the perpetrator, but to her surprise, no one was there.

_That's weird,_ she thought, _I could have sworn someone was watching me?_

She suddenly got chills, and she immediately knew someone was behind her. Her body had a funny way of warning her, and this was one of those times. Slowly, she stood and tiptoed next to the oak tree Spike had just been standing next too. She peered around it searching for signs of life, but to her distaste she only saw a coffee cup on one of the benches.

_Seriously, you can't even get rid of your trash, _she thought.

Relaxing her shoulders, she walked over and picked up the cup labeled "Spike".

_Thought I would catch you watching me, did you, _she thought, _well, if I throw it out, maybe this "Spike" will get the message and leave me alone._

Heatedly, she threw the cup in the trash, picked up her belongings, and headed to independent study.

Spike reached up to scratch his ear slowly. He had an unnerving feeling that someone was speaking ill of him. He wasn't a superstitious man, by any means, but he always scratched his ears when someone was thinking bad thoughts about him. Though Spike was trying to stay away from the artist, he knew for sure someone was taking shit about him close by.

_Bloody ear, _he thought while scratching incisively, _maybe she caught on that I was watchin' and decided to get pissy?_

He stood and walked over to the oak tree again, but when he turned to watch the artist at work, she was gone. Dejected, he leaned his head back only to notice a note pinned to the sketch of the flower bed hanging by a ribbon in the tree. Reaching up to untie it, he read:

_Dear Oak Tree Onlooker,_

_I don't mind sharing my secret spot, but I prefer to work uninterrupted. Clearly, you were taken with my sketch work, so I will let you off the hook this __one__ time. If you intend to eat lunch here, please keep this garden to yourself and take care of your trash! I would be very disheartened if it were ruined with noise and arbitrary chit chat._

_Thank you._

_- Anonymous _

_P.S. I'm watching you._ (O-O)

Spike was laughing uncontrollably before he could even set the note down.

_Daft bint sure acts tough, but I can't really be 'fraid of someone who threatens with a doodle now can I,_ he thought while chuckling. He gazed at the sketch and mentally applauded her skills yet again. She was brilliant with unique shading techniques and her eye for realism was astounding. In the corner, the initials "B.S." were written in cursive.

_It could be any number of people, _he thought trying to decipher the artist's identity. Pondering the mystery that was "B.S." he began counting all the people he knew with those initials. _Brittney South, Brianna Stoll, Bebe Shuler. . .really only three, _he thought annoyed at his small list of contenders. _Their work is bloody atrocious, _he laughed aloud thinking about their work and the photo-like sketch he held in his hands. If he ever met the anonymous sketch artist, whose initials he now possessed, he would not only praise her for her work, but probably become friends with her. Anyone that could be cute and cheeky at the same time was someone worth getting to know.


	3. Chapter 3: Three Amigos

Author's Note: The beginning of this chapter is still in the early stages because I want the first meet to be special. They will officially speak in Chapter 4, which should be coming out very soon. I scanned through this chapter so many times that I cannot look at it anymore. Hopefully, I haven't skimmed over mistakes. Sorry if I did. By the way, thank you Spuffygirl for your nice comments, I truly appreciate it. I hope I can meet your expectations! ∩( ・ω・)∩

**Young Girl**

**Chapter 3**

The library was completely packed, which surprised Buffy, considering it was the first day of school. Spotting Xander and Willow from the entrance, she waved and strolled over to their table.

"What are you guys up to?" said Buffy brightly.

"AGHH!" Xander groaned putting his head and arms flat on the table.

Buffy giggled, then examining the clock she said, "Xander, we're like 3 hours into our first day. If you're already tired, I'm pretty sure that's a bad sign."

Willow smacked his arm and said, "Big baby didn't get enough sleep because he was so excited to see you."

Buffy laughed and watched as Xander turned bright red. Pulling a chair out, she sat down next to him and observed his blush that was now spreading to his neck. She had missed these small exchanges with her friends during the summer. She traveled with her mother to London to inspect some sculptures heading back to Sunnydale, so she hadn't seen either one of them since the beginning of the summer.

Xander peered up at Buffy and trying to hold onto some sense of dignity said, "I wasn't that excited to see you. Just glad to have you back." Trying to change the subject, he continued, "I bought this new video game called 'League of Death Assassins' and. . ." then Buffy was gone. She started spacing out as soon as she heard "video game" in the sentence.

Buffy leaned against her arm and tried to pay attention, failing miserably. She thought back to her early years at Rockwell, when everyone considered her a loner. Other than eating lunch with Faith, her now ex-childhood friend, she rarely opened up to anyone about her personal life. She kept to herself on most days and spent way too much time in the private work rooms coming up with new designs. It wasn't until she met Angel that she opened herself up. She still remembered how sweet and enduring his "tortured soul" act had been when they met. But his overbearing need to control her life made her distant, causing him to seek out Faith for comfort. After his blatant betrayal, she almost reverted back to her old self, but met Willow and Xander coincidentally at a local coffee shop.

Thinking back, she remembered how funny their first meeting had been.

_1 year earlier_

Buffy was trying not to let Faith and Angel get to her, but the fact that they were now displaying their "love" near her work room was excruciating. She sipped her coffee while watching as it stormed outside the little family owned coffee shop she had found spontaneously on her way home from school.

Every time she saw them, her mind would trigger back to the day she found them in the art supply closet humping like wild animals. Since neither one of them had classes in Gregory Hall, at the time, it was clear, Angel had set up the encounter hoping for some dramatic fallout and makeup session. What he didn't expect was for Buffy to open the door, grab several painting utensils, and shut the door absentmindedly. Her complete disregard towards his actions had only irritated him more.

Now, he was trying, with no luck, to get a rise out of her by forcing her to see him with Faith every day. Everywhere she went they were kissing or hugging inappropriately. They even went as far as to get into some of her classes, just so they could torment her more often. Luckily, she was offered a coveted position in the advanced program, so they couldn't ruin every class she was in. Buffy had vowed to never show Angel how hurt and badly wounded she actually was because then that would mean he had won. No, every night she would come home crying and violently punch her sandbag in the garage. She knew he would eventually get sick of her, but until that time came, she would need to completely turn off her emotions.

As if by fate, she stood accidentally bumping into someone holding a very full coffee. That person happened to be Xander, who was accompanied by Willow. By the time he had noticed, her uniform was drenched in white mocha goodness. And no matter how many times both him and Willow apologized, the damage was done. She had felt like someone kicked her in the stomach at first, because it had taken months for her to save up enough money to buy the uniform, but watching them try to scrub the coffee off with their sleeves had been her downfall. Without realizing it, she had started laughing uncontrollably at her shitty luck and the pair of hands rubbing her down in public. Plus, the scene was so funny to her, she felt like she was starring in her own episode of "Seinfeld". After that, Xander and Willow had offered to buy her a coffee to make up for the mess, and with no hesitation, she had agreed. Since that day, they had not only been her best friends, but her protectors against Angel and the Chase sisters' retaliation.

_Present_

Now, whenever she needed a critical eye to examine her work, she came to Xander and Willow to tell her the truth. And, since all of them were assigned to different paths, the need to be competitive with each other was nonexistent, which, to Buffy, was a nice change of pace. She realized after she met Xander and Willow that her art could grow and become more mature with connections from outside forces. Whether it was just a regular day or seeing your boyfriend have sex with your friend in a supply closet, Buffy noticed more profound reactions to her work when she had used her emotions to paint or draw.

As much as she enjoyed watching people look at her works, it wasn't about their opinions. Their opinions didn't matter as much as the integrity of the pieces she put on display. Though Xander and Willow would give their opinions, she always had the final say. None of her art pieces ever went out half done. They were either completed or she wouldn't show. Many of the professors had commended her honor, and she intended to keep it that way.

Noticing Buffy's eyes glaze fully over, Willow waved her hand in front of Buffy's face and said, "Earth to Buffy, you there?"

Coming out of her daydream trance, Buffy said with a grin, "Of course, just got lost in the video game conversation." Pausing for a moment to broach a different subject, she asked, "Do either of you know a student named Spike?"

Xander, now fully aware said with a frown, "No, why are you asking about a guy? I thought you were taking time off from men?"

Willow gazed at Xander and burned imaginary holes into his head. Turning back to Buffy with a smile she said, "No, I don't, but I could check the music department. Why do you ask?"

"I. . ." Buffy stopped to consider whether she should tell them about the garden or not, "I. . . found something that belongs to someone named Spike, but I don't know anyone by that name, so I can't return it." Struggling to keep her month shut she continued, "And. . . ya know. . . if I knew him I could. . .give him his stuff back." She put her hand over her mouth to avoid any more lies from spilling out. She wanted to talk to the infamous "Spike", but it wasn't to give him anything back. Buffy just wanted to threaten the boy into keeping her garden a secret from the rest of the student body.

Xander getting annoyed at the "boy talk" got up from the table and said, "Ladies, if you will excuse me, I believe my lunch time is starting."

Waving at Xander, Willow twisted toward Buffy and spoke softly, "So, what's really going on?" Before Buffy could speak she added, "And don't even think about lying, you really stink at it."

Buffy quickly explained how her first period had gone horribly wrong with Faith being a bitch and Angel egging her on, not to mention, being late and receiving a detention slip from Professor Pratt. She told Willow about the secret garden she had been drawing at for years and how some guy ruined it by showing up. Making Willow chuckle, she told her about the note and how she wanted to meet the guy so he wouldn't tell the rest of the student body about her garden.

Once Buffy was done venting, Willow said, "Alright, Buf, I'll ask around, but more than likely it's an art student." Realizing Buffy wasn't getting the connection, she stated the obvious, "Since it seems you two have the same lunch."

"I didn't even think of that!" Buffy said smacking her head lightly and laughing. "I knew there was a reason I kept you around."

Willow smiled broadly then looked down at her alarm abruptly sounding from her wristwatch. "We have to get going. You said you have sketching dynamics at 12:30, with Professor Finn right?"

"Yeah, room 326 in Gregory Hall," said Buffy staring down at her new schedule with a squint. Realizing she may need a favor from Willow, she smiled shyly and asked innocently, "Is there any chance I could borrow your glasses until tomorrow? I don't have my spare set with me, and well, you know, Faith broke my other ones."

Willow not being able to say "no" to Buffy's cute face said, "Yeah of course you can borrow them, though they aren't that fashionable." Willow reached into her bag and handed Buffy her wide rim glasses and said, "If anyone can make them work, it's you."

Throwing on the glasses, she vogued in front of Willow to gauge her response. "You look so cute with those on," said Willow slightly jealous of Buffy for making her glasses look adorable, while she made them look completely nerdy. "Those look like they were made for your face."

The more Spike thought about the artist, the more he was determined to figure out her identity. He had grabbed a yearbook from the previous year and was meticulously scanning through each student's picture.

_How are there only 5 girls with B.S. as their initials in the entire bloody school, _thought Spike annoyed by his findings. He rubbed his forehead in exasperation. _I already excluded 3 because their work doesn't even compare to what I saw earlier, and the other 2 are from different programs, _he thought becoming more and more agitated. _Why'd I even care, _he thought momentarily, _because her work is brilliant and fresh and riveting. _He paused and realized how crazy he was acting.

"I just talked to myself inside my own head," he muttered. "Anyone finds out 'bout this and I'm gettin' sent to the bloody nuthouse."

Someone cleared their throat unexpectedly, causing him to jerk up. His entire class had witnessed his internal struggle play across his sharp features. Feeling mortified, he stood and decided to lecture more to take his mind off the young woman he had seen. He was determined to identify her, but now was certainly not the time. He placed her note and sketch into his planner, so he could suss out his dilemma later during detention.

Every second of Buffy's last class was torture. Professor Finn was completely incompetent and clearly, only paid attention to students willing to pet his ego. Infuriated by his self-proclaimed lecture entitled, "Sketching for your Audience", she zoned out and thought of new designs for her mother's showcase coming up at the end of the month. The idea that artists were merely sketching for their audience caused Buffy to lose complete respect for the professor.

_I cannot believe I have to sit here and listen to this bullshit, _she thought while glaring at Professor Finn at the bottom of the lecture hall. _This class cannot end soon enough. I would much rather be sitting in detention watching paint dry than listening to this load of crap._

Every second was agonizing. _Tick. . .tock. . .tick. . .tock. . . _She looked over at the clock hoping that it was almost over. _You have to be kidding me, _she thought, _how has it only been 10 minutes!_

The rest of the period went on like that. Buffy tried to listen, but her self-preservation caused her to shut his words out completely. As soon as the bell rang, she rushed out and bolted straight to her locker. Buffy wasn't about to be late to detention for being late to class. Just thinking about it, she laughed at the irony of the situation. With no after school activities starting until week two of school, she enjoyed the quietness that laced the hallways. One second she was putting books away with students floating around her, and the next minute, she was completely alone and immersed in her own thoughts. Grabbing her tote bag, she hightailed it to detention.


	4. Chapter 4: BS

Author's Note: After 3 chapters, Buffy and Spike will finally meet. I wanted there to be some element of surprise, for both characters, so the whole "will they, won't they" find out about each other's identities is still coming into play. I also want to thank everyone who is reading this story. And yes, Spuffygirl I did mention you, because you're awesome and I really like your work. And thank you angelz921 for your review as well! Again, I hope I don't disappoint anyone! I made this chapter extra-long because of the wait. (^O^)

**Young Girl**

**Chapter 4**

After completely engrossing himself in the search for "B.S.", Spike had almost forgotten he had a student coming to detention. Looking down at the yearbook sprawled open on the desk, he sighed.

_I'm becoming a bit obsessed, _he thought shutting the book and placing it in his tote. _Maybe Dru can help me later after her show._ His face slowly fell.

They had been dating for years on and off. Currently, they were on, but she was being distant again, which worried him. He had always known his love for her was much deeper than hers for him, but she was his muse, his dark princess. Always had been and always would be. The constant back and forth was difficult, to say the least, but she wasn't the type to be caged. She wasn't faithful, but he never held it against her. Her spirit had always been free. He knew what he was getting himself into when they had started dating.

He had always had a yearning to love someone and have them reciprocate those feelings, but her love was the type you just embrace. Though he had said, "I Love You" many times during their relationship, Dru hadn't said it once during their time together. Hurt wasn't a strong enough word to describe his feelings.

Several days ago when he had woken up, a note was on the pillow next to him that bluntly stated, "We need to talk". Without a class to teach or something to do, he was preoccupied with what she might want to say to him. Afraid she was going to break his heart again, he made sure to avoid his flat and stay elsewhere until she came to her senses. Honestly, he would do anything to avoid the talk again. How many times could the woman break his heart before he stopped taking her back?

_I'll always take her back, _he thought turning one of his rings unconsciously around his finger. He looked down at the thick white gold ring and remembered when he tried to propose to Dru. She had simply dismissed the idea, but for some reason, he still held onto the ring. In the back of his mind, he hoped she would agree one day and he could stop wearing the damn thing. It just reminded him of all the times she had repeatedly rejected his proposals.

Trying to take his mind off Dru, he hoped the young woman coming to detention would be open to his assignment and not bitch about it. Last year, he had tried this same assignment on the Chase sisters, and all they did was cross their arms and pout like babies. He actually wished he hadn't given them detention at all because afterwards, they created some creepy fan club in his honor. And to his chagrin, they were constantly trying to get alone time with him in his office. Eventually, becoming very irritated by their constant stalking, he had his office moved to the 5th floor, where only staff could enter with a key card. Nowadays, when he needed time alone, he would either hide up there or get some fresh air at the garden.

He decided that whether the student bitched or not, it hadn't been his fault she was late to class. Sure, he had enjoyed closing the door on her, because really, the look on her face had been priceless, but his guilt made him believe he had taken it too far. He pictured the student in her ripped tights and her broken glasses and started feeling worse for giving her detention on what he presumed was a shitty morning.

_I don't even know the girl's name, _he thought pulling out his roster. _Elizabeth Summers, _he read to himself, _I've never had her in a class before. I would've remembered that death gaze._

Just as he was about to continue reading the list in search of familiar names, he heard a soft knock come from the hallway. He stood and lightly cracked the large door, peering down at the small girl before him.

_She's quite petite up close, _he thought eyeing her.

"I presume you are Miss Summers," he said moving aside to let her in. Before she could speak, he beckoned her to follow him to a row of work tables along the windows in the back. She silently followed assessing his demeanor. Buffy didn't know if he was the type of man to hold a grudge or a professor mature enough to give her a second chance. Until he spoke, she decided to just follow his lead. As she trailed behind him, his scent lingered in the air wafting all around her as she walked.

_Wow,_ she thought to herself, _he smells amazing!_ Breathing in heavily, she tried to decipher his scent. _He smells like leather and cigarettes, but there's something else too. Maybe Old Spice? Or maybe that's just "him"?_ She had to admit, even though he had been a dick earlier, the man was appealing in more ways than one. She eyed his attire and couldn't help but feel his style defined punk chic. _Unquestionably, he was a bad boy back in the day._ She took a mental note of his rings. _That thick one is so dramatic. I wonder where he bought it?_ Still in thought, she didn't notice Spike watching her out of the corner of his eye.

_Quiet girl, _he thought turning slightly to make sure she was still following. _Wouldn't have thought that based on her little quip to the O'Brien prat._

"Miss Summers, because I don't know what field of art you're studying, I thought you could test the waters with some new studies." He stopped in front of three tables, first pointing to freehand drawing, next to sculpting, and finally to calligraphy at the far end.

Finally, having the courage to speak, Buffy placed her hand on her hip and said, "What's the catch?"

_There's the spark,_ he thought.

"Glad to see you're perceptive, Miss Summers. There's no 'catch', as you so eloquently put it, I just want you to open your mind to other creative possibilities."

"I'm sorry, what?" Buffy said completely confused with the assignment. "So let me get this straight, you want me to create three separate art pieces, in fields that I may not be familiar with, for what purpose?"

Realizing, yet again, he might have chosen the wrong student to try this assignment out on, he said frustrated, "I just wanted you to try and get a 'feel' for other art fields. It's always important to have a backup plan. If your intended field doesn't pan out, what'll you do then?"

Catching him by surprise she shrugged and said, "That's a valid point. I'll give it a shot." Continuing she asked, "How much time do I have for each piece? Or is it like a free-for-all type of deal?"

Snickering at her wording he said, "I suppose it's a free-for-all. There's no time constraint. Get done what you can today, and if you don't finish, just keep comin' here at 2:30 until they're presentable."

Walking over to the calligraphy station, she tied her hair back and sat down. "Alright, Professor, that sounds good to me," she said now in complete focus. She liked professors that challenged her. Because she was specifically assigned to the sketching program, she hardly ever focused on other ventures unless they were required. Now, she was being given a chance to explore other creative paths and there was no way she was going to pass it up.

_He has a point,_ she thought, _if my drawings don't take off, I'm gonna need another focus._

He watched her closely as she strolled over to the calligraphy table, pulling her hair up into a loose bun. He observed as she delicately took off her glasses and put them in their case. Her confidence instantaneously radiated around the room once her glasses were put away. She then started rummaging through the brushes he had carefully chosen, looking over each carefully. Her fingers delicately glided across each one.

He specifically put down several kinds of brushes, in order to make her think about the direction she wanted to take the piece. He watched out of the corner of his eye, as she started dipping a thick bamboo brush in black ink. The stations were turned away from his view, so until she was finished, he wouldn't know what she was working on. Spike firmly believed that an artist should have the final say on when a piece was complete. He had no right to judge it beforehand.

_She's actually very cute, _he thought walking back to the desk at the front of the room. _I can't comprehend how she could cover her face with those glasses. 'S like puttin' a car cover over a classic ride. Disgraceful._

He sat at the desk, pulling out his brainstorming journal. He knew it was inappropriate to check out a student, even if it was internally. Swatting Elizabeth's image from his mind, he pulled out the flower bed sketch. The image was so lifelike and realistic. Since the first moment he laid his eyes on it, he had wanted to sculpt something in honor of the piece, but he wasn't sure what he wanted to sketch. So he started jotting down ideas in his journal to review later.

Buffy hadn't practiced calligraphy in years. When her mother invited her to travel to Japan, she had surprised Buffy with a one-on-one calligraphy session with a calligraphy master. For several hours, she learned the ins and outs of how to correctly draw Japanese hiragana and kanji characters. Though she didn't know what the characters meant, it was a once in a lifetime moment. Staring at the canvas, she thought back to a haiku her tutor taught her. Maybe she would mess some of the characters up, but really how would he know?

_Over the wintry_

_Forest, winds howl in rage_

_With no leaves to blow._

_- Natsume Soseki_

Spike couldn't help but watch Elizabeth work. He saw something within her that not many other artists had, desire. Her whole being was passionate and on fire while working. Her green eyes were glued to her canvas, obviously in deep thought. He watched as she bit her lip in concentration.

_I take back what I said about her being cute, _he thought now analyzing her features, _she's stunning._

Several minutes passed and she declared that her calligraphy piece was completed. It wasn't necessarily her forte, but compared to other works she had seen on display, it was on par. The characters were positioned correctly and written vertically, and in her opinion, that was a win.

Moving onto sculpting, she looked over at the professor's desk and saw him eyeing her again. Buffy felt his gaze rock her to the core. There was something there, but she quickly looked away feeling her face getting hot. She smiled timidly and sat down, trying to mentally come up with a proper sculpture. When she finally came up with an idea, she started molding the piece to her will.

Their eyes connected for a moment and he felt her curiosity boil to the surface. She smiled bashfully and sat down, breaking their gaze. Scaring himself, he realized he wanted to share more glances with the student.

_Get a grip, _he thought angrily, _she's a child for Christ's sake, you big ponce! But those eyes, _he argued with himself, _those eyes are breathtaking._

By accident Spike mumbled, "Oh, bollocks," causing Buffy to peer around station two curiously.

"Did you say something, Professor?" she asked.

"What. . .no, I was just thinkin' aloud, Elizabeth, not to worry."

Focusing back on her work, she stopped to take a deep breath.

_Get a grip, _she thought pouting, _he's a professor, and way too old for you. So he looks like sex on a stick and his accent makes my name sound like liquid gold, must stay strong and remember, 'look don't touch'!_

For the next 30 minutes, Spike forced himself to look anywhere else, but Elizabeth's table. He had enjoyed her calling him 'professor' a little too much, and now, he was straining to stay mentally planted in the appropriate teacher-student zone. He wrote out the week's lesson plans, drank tea, and glared at the clock in complete determination, but nothing seemed to be working. He finally, gave in and turned to see how Elizabeth was doing with her sculpture.

His eyes widened and darkened in lust as he watched her kneading the clay with her delicate hands. She had taken off her blazer to avoid getting clay on her uniform, then decided to roll up her sleeves. Little strands of her golden hair were floating around her face, and she had a smudge of clay on her left cheek. Though it was clear she wasn't trying to be sensual on purpose, her messy look hitched his breathing. It didn't help that her tights were ripped and she was biting her lip lightly.

_Is she tryin' to kill me? _He thought while appreciating the view. _I wouldn't mind rippin' those tights a bit more._ He started drifting to the gutter, but caught himself abruptly remembering his status. _Remember the saying Spike, 'look don't touch'._

Standing up, Buffy took several steps back and critiqued her sculpture. Something was off. Maybe the proportions? Whatever it was, it looked awkward and definitely not presentable. Thinking about ways to fix it, she suddenly stopped.

_He never said I couldn't ask for help, _she thought peering over at Spike. _He probably wouldn't want to help me, but then again, maybe he would be flattered?_

Watching Buffy's internal struggle play across her face, Spike said, "Elizabeth, you look like you wanna ask me somethin'?"

She started slowly walking over to the desk, still visibly deliberating her response to his question in her head. "For this project, am I allowed to ask you for help if I'm having trouble? Or is that like an art no-no?"

He reclined back in his chair and said, "Depends."

Smiling, she decided to go for it, "Can you help me with my sculpture? Something's off, but I can't put my finger on the problem. It looks . . . how do I put this . . . deformed?"

Seeing as she was asking so nicely, Spike stood and started walking toward the covered work station. Before peeking, he turned to Buffy slightly and asked, "You're givin' me permission to look ahead a time right?"

She liked that he was a man of his word. Most other professors wouldn't give two shits about looking before the piece was completed, but he was different. She could tell he was straightforward and honest to a fault. "Yes, Professor, you can look." She smiled up at him through her lashes.

With her approval, he twisted and was met with one of the scariest sculptures he had ever seen. Trying to contain his laughter and bewilderment he just gawked.

Buffy could sense he was laughing internally. His eyes were amused, but he was undoubtedly trying to be polite. Annoyed by his flippant critique, she looked up at him and said, "If you're gonna laugh just do it. I'm not very good with sculptures, so the shape's a bit off and well, obviously, the body's messed up too."

"Sorry, I was strugglin' very hard to hold it in," he said chuckling with a mock apology. "'S not horrible, but it could be better. Have you taken any real sculpting classes before mine, or is it just not your strong suit?"

He continued with the critique, pointing to different sections that needed work. Areas of the body that could be adjusted and more proportional. Buffy just watched in thought taking in all of his advice. She was slightly confused by some of his directions so she asked leaning in, "So here," she pointed to a section of the clay, "this should be molded differently? How so?"

Spike watched as she leaned toward him. Her arm slithered past his torso toward the clay. In his mind, he was thinking back to the Chase sister debacle, but noticed after a moment, she was still very much absorbing his critique with general interest. She was even asking questions.

Pulling him out of his thoughts, Buffy asked, "Could you show me?"

"Show you what?" said Spike having missed the question.

"Right here," she said, "could you show me how to mold his properly? I don't know how to make it look more human and less . . . elephant man." She giggled at her choice of comparison.

_Bloody adorable, _he thought listening to her giggle.

He rested on his elbows close to the sculpture and delicately touched it. He breathed in their closeness and took in her fragrant vanilla and amber wood scent. He didn't know what she was wearing, but it was intoxicating to his senses. Anxiously, he watched as her hand moved near his on the sculpture. Her thumb gently rubbed the clay and smoothed it down as he fixed her edges.

Drowning in his scent, Buffy decided to help fix her sculpture. It wouldn't be "hers" if he did all the fixing. She peered up and watched his blue eyes darting around her piece. "Do you think it can be salvaged?"

"Any piece can be salvaged. You just gotta know how and where to fix it. Do you see this area right here?" He said pointing to the bottom.

"Yes." She answered nervously, finally taking in their proximity.

"If you take your hand like so," he said gripping her hand gently, "and move the clay like this, then it will be more human and less . . . elephant man . . . as you put it." He hesitated then let go of her hand.

Buffy's skin tingled from the contact. _He has very strong hands, _she thought already missing the skin to skin contact.

_Electrifying, _he thought holding Elizabeth's hand gently. _Her skin's so soft. _

She looked up at him and their faces were only inches apart. Stealing quick glances at each other's lips, they stepped back sharply and turned back to the sculpture.

Trying to think of something to say, Spike said speedily, "So, was that all?" Part of him hoped she would say "no", but at the same time, he needed her to say "yes" for his own sanity.

"I'm good, Professor." She said slightly disappointed.

Finishing her sculpture, she examined the clock. She only had 20 more minutes, but she really wanted to finish her last piece. The first two pieces had been difficult. She was neither a calligrapher nor a sculptor, but she sure as hell considered herself a sketch artist. Thinking about what she wanted to draw, she eyed the professor.

_Oh my god, it's so obvious, _she thought smiling broadly.

Straightaway, she grabbed a pencil and shaved the end with a box cutter. Buffy considered herself a professional and her mom had always said, "Real artists file their tools with blades." Since then, she had never used a pencil sharpener, but a blade to sharpen her utensils.

Spike leaned forward to see what Elizabeth was pulling out of her tote. He couldn't tell from where he was sitting, but didn't dare walk into her space again. With his inappropriate thoughts and her alluring appearance, walking into her space, would only tempt him into acting on his desires.

Buffy felt his eyes on her again. She refused to look up, because she knew he would only distract her. No, she was going to finish strong. Art had always come first, and today was no different. She closed her eyes and thought about the image she wanted to recreate. Every line, detail, and feature needed to be spot on. Though she couldn't fully capture its beauty, she was going to get as close as possible.

Spike needed a distraction. His tea was empty and he was sweating like a whore in church. Every time he peered over at Elizabeth, his eyes seemed to glaze over and dirty thoughts spilled into his mind. The things he wished he could do to her. But no, he wasn't the type of man to prey on young teenage girls. The thought actually brought him swiftly back to reality. He refused to act like Professor Finn. Now that guy was a sleaze. Last term, he had several nasty rumors going around about affairs with senior students. Though he didn't know if it was true, he wouldn't put it past good ol' Riley to do such a thing. He stood and decided he needed to get some air. Maybe get another tea. Visibly, Elizabeth wasn't done, so he had time to see her off at 5.

"Elizabeth," he called from a safe distance.

Popping her head up she called back, "Yes, Professor?"

_What I wouldn't give for her to say that to me in a more intimate setting, _he thought forcefully pushing the dirty images away.

"I'm gonna pop out for a bit to grab another tea. Don't mind do ya?"

Seeing as she was almost done, she said, "Not at all, Professor." Maybe some free time away from him would allow her to focus fully on finishing her last piece.

Before he could stop himself he asked, "Would you like one, luv?"

Her eyes that had lingered back to her work sprang up in surprise at the phrasing. Slightly blushing she said, "No thank you, I have a water bottle in my bag."

"Alright, see you in a bit." said Spike exiting the room as fast as humanly possible.

_Can I act anymore unprofessional? _He thought mentally beating himself up. _She probably thinks I was hittin' on her. Blushes don't lie._

Watching him leave the room, Buffy pulled her hands to her cheeks and started fanning her face.

"Calm yourself Buffy," she said aloud, "it was an accident that's all. Slip of the tongue."

Problem was, she didn't want it to be a slip. She wanted him to call her a special pet name. Something only meant for her. Anything sounded good coming out of his mouth, but having a pet name would be so much better than her birth name. She glared at her piece and put the finishing touches on the edges. Grabbing her signature pen, she wrote "B.S." at the bottom right hand side and gave each piece one more gander. The first two were decent, but her drawing was exquisite. Definitely one of her better sketches. Maybe, after he had checked them out, she could color it in? Seeing as it was now 5 o'clock, Buffy decided to pack up and leave. She didn't know when the professor would be back, and frankly, with her face still beet red, she didn't want to come into contact with him until next class.

Spike hadn't noticed the time. He had sat down at the café across the street to give Elizabeth some space, but now he was late getting back. He wanted to apologize for giving her a pet name, but when he got back to the room she was gone. All her belongings were cleaned up and the tools she had used were placed gently back into place. All he found was a note sitting on the desk.

_Professor,_

_Sorry I didn't stick around. All 3 pieces are done, so please, take a look. I'm anxious to hear your opinion._

_-Miss Summers_

_Oh no, _he thought, _she had signed with 'Miss Summers' instead of 'Elizabeth'. Probably offended by the pet name. Shit, now I really need to apologize._

Stopping at the first station, he sat and jotted critiques into his notebook. Since she wanted feedback, he was going to include praises and some criticism. He couldn't speak Japanese, so he didn't know what she had wrote, but evidently, she had some training overseas. The vertical lines were straight and balanced and her strokes were fluid.

_A woman of many talents, _he thought. _Not sure if she could handle English calligraphy. But, I suppose if she's able to write so beautifully in Japanese, then English wouldn't be a problem._

Moving onto the second piece, he saw the finished product. It looked much better than when he initially came over, so he was glad she had taken his advice.

_It looks like a woman holding a baby, _he thought. Writing down more critiques, he told her what he liked and some improvements she could make. Along with some tips and hints on how to make her work better.

When he sat down in front of the last piece, he noticed it was the only one she covered. Another note was stuck to the cloth.

_Since we got off to a rocky start, I wanted to wipe my slate clean and start over. Hopefully, you can give me a second chance at a first impression. I would be very disheartened if my one mistake ruined a great chance to learn from your experience._

Rubbing his thumb mechanically back and forth on the note, he realized the handwriting seemed familiar.

_Something 'bout the way she writes her "R's" is familiar, _he thought analyzing the note. He reread it several times trying to figure out where he had seen that curvy "R" before. Without meaning too, he stared at the note for 45 minutes. Slowly sliding his fingers across the note, he paused over the word "disheartened". His eyes widened at the realization. Immediately, the familiarity clicked into place.

Standing impatiently, he ripped off the cloth to reveal a photo like sketch of his profile. He scanned the image and read "B.S." in cursive at the bottom right corner.


	5. Chapter 5: The Ugly Mug Showdown

Author's Note: Thank you to everyone reading this story. I wanted to show my appreciation by putting out two long chapters this weekend while I'm on break from University. Thanks again, and I hope I don't disappoint! ᕙ(⇀‸↼‶)ᕗ

**Young Girl**

**Chapter 5**

_One second, _thought Spike analyzing the sketch, _Elizabeth and B.S. are one in the same? Why would she use a pen name?_ He stopped for a moment and thought, _does it really matter? I use Spike Pratt as my pen name, so it's not really that unbelievable. I wonder what the "B" stands for?_

He couldn't believe that he had found her. Eyeing the sketch of himself again, he admired her talent. "Never been someone's muse before," he said enamored with her choice. "If she was aimin' to flatter me, it definitely worked," he said noticing her attention to detail. "Even got my scar right," he mumbled while instinctively stroking near his eyebrow.

In his heart, he had an overwhelming desire to speak with her more, understand her, and just be around her. He knew he sounded senseless, but never had he felt something like this for any woman, let alone a student.

_Whatever my fascination with her is, _he thought feeling immediately guilty about how happy he was getting, _'s wrong to feel so taken with her. But, then again, _he rubbed his forehead in exasperation,_ I'm love's bitch, always will be._

It wasn't just her work that appealed to him. Her personality and mannerisms had driven him to act nonsensical. Elizabeth was absolutely beautiful, sure anyone could see that, but it was more than that. Their immediate connection had opened him up a bit. Even being with Dru had never done that to him. He had only met the girl this morning and already he was conspiring to keep her around.

_I'm a bad, rude man, _he thought gracefully touching the "B.S." with his fingers. _And I don't bloody care. _

Thinking aloud, he said, "I've already scared her off with the accidental pet name, who says she'll even want to be around me." He felt a sudden urge to mend the broken bridge. "Nothing says I can't wipe the slate clean tomorrow." Looking at her note, he pondered, "She wants a second chance, so is it wrong to assume I'm gettin' a second chance as well?" He hoped it applied to his behavior as well.

Even though he knew he would never overstep his boundaries and would ultimately comply with the school's "No Dating Students" policy, he planned to work within the "friends" loophole. He scanned his faculty to student policy book and found the section on inappropriate behavior.

_If Finn can get away with shaggin' students in the art supply closet, _he thought, _is it so wrong for me to want Elizabeth around as just a friend?_

In this moment, he didn't care enough to consider the ramifications nor did he actually consider that his feelings for Elizabeth weren't all that "friendly". He read, keeping some small ounce of hope:

_Professor and Student Relations_

_The Rockwell Conservatory has a strict policy in regards to on and off campus relationships between faculty and members of the student body. The guidelines below define the accepted fraternizations between such parties._

Spike read tediously hoping that casual friendships were deemed appropriate by the school board. His fingers glided over the paper and stopped mid-sentence on a section called, "Relationship Type 2" written in bold:

_Relationship Type 2:_

_No professor and/or student shall become sexually physical or engage in inappropriate touching._

His mind went numb. Spike jerked his head slightly to stop images from flowing through his brain, but after reading the rule, he lost control. All he could think about was Elizabeth, in messy pigtails, folding her body in odd positions doing unspeakable things to him while moaning out "Professor" seductively. His cravings for her were almost causing him physical pain.

He reached out and grabbed the easel with such force that his knuckles began to turn white. Feeling betrayed by his lack of self-control, he let out a frustrated breath and eventually, with great effort, he was able to regain his composure.

Reading on, he scanned the next few rules coming to his intended target:

_Relationship Type 7:_

_A professor/student friendship may occur under the following circumstances:_

_A mentor/student relationship is formed._

_A tutor/student relationship is formed._

_A critic/student relationship is formed._

_In all of the situations listed above, the student must be a legal adult if meeting after school hours, unless prior arrangements have been approved by the school board._

He smiled in relief and relished in the fact that becoming friends with a student was appropriate if they were considered adults and no romantic feelings were acted upon. In order to be close with her, he would have to control his lustful demon. Whether his body liked it or not, he would make it happen.

_I'm only assumin' she's 18. This only works if she's legal, _he thought warily honing in on the word "legal". The mere thought of being attracted to jailbait made him feel like a dirty old man. _How can I possibly think an 8-year age difference is not a problem? What is wrong with me!_

As he thought more and more about the possibility of becoming friends with Elizabeth, he felt guiltier and more ashamed. He decided that sleeping on it may help him to see clearer tomorrow. So he packed his tote, gave the sketch another fond once over, and headed to his flat.

Buffy was worried. She had felt an inappropriate attraction to the professor and now, she couldn't stop thinking about him. She knew it was wrong, given his status and the obvious age difference, but he was fascinating to her. The way he spoke, his sculpting capabilities and his overall persona were alluring to her. Actually, his entire "air" intrigued her in more ways that she cared to admit.

Thinking back, she had never felt that kind of heat when she was with Angel. He always held his emotions back, and that had bored her immensely, but with the professor, she felt grown up and desirable. She didn't have any evidence to back up her suspicions, but his gaze was penetrating and unmistakably, he was curious about her. Though, maybe not in the way she wanted him to find her curious.

She looked at her hand and began opening and closing it. She knew he felt the heat too. Her hand had been on fire when they had touched, and his hesitation when it came to letting go, just confirmed her earlier suspicions.

_Did he feel the connection too, _she thought praying he did, _or am I just over compensating for my stupid adolescent crush?_

She thought about their age difference and cringed. _It doesn't help that I don't look 18, _she thought remembering him say he just turned 26, _I'm just a child in his eyes. He seems way too professional to try anything with a student unlike Professor Finn. I must be reading into his actions. All he wanted was to show me how to mold the clay properly, not send me into cardiac arrest._ She felt slightly rejected, but realized it was completely unjustified. He was being professional and mentoring her and all she was doing was fawning over his good looks.

"I'm better than this," she said aloud asserting the idea until it became truth, "I'm better than a stupid one-sided crush!" Annoyed, she decided to stop and get a coffee near her house to calm herself down. Her heart was racing again, and she reluctantly acknowledged it wasn't because she was excited, it was because she had thought about his cheekbones, and eyes, and luscious kissable lips. She figured until she engrossed herself in something else, she would be unable to think about anything else.

_I wonder if Jen is working at the coffee shop today, _she thought trying to force his features out of her mind.

She strolled along the street and turned a corner to face "The Ugly Mug", a family owned establishment that had wormed its way into her neighborhood. Not that she was complaining. The nearest Starbucks was nearly 10 blocks away. At least here, she could get a coffee on the way to school and not have to pay an arm and a leg. Plus, only a few people from school new about it. She didn't have the displeasure of running into Faith, Cordelia, or Angel in this area because they lived on the rich side of town. But, she didn't care about that. She liked her neighborhood's style. It wasn't new and modern, but the people were authentic and her townhouse had character.

As she walked into "The Ugly Mug", slamming the large wooden door with gusto, she perused behind the counter in search of Jen. The place was dead. She could only see two people talking in the corner and a guy turned from her looking out the window.

Walking toward the counter, she saw one of the newer workers and asked, "Hey, Parker is Jen here today?"

"Oh, hey Buffy," said Parker gingerly, "Jen's out for the day, but she should be back tomorrow. Anything I can help you with?"

"Nah, it's all good," she said waving her hand nonchalantly. "It isn't an emergency or anything." Leaning on the counter, she said, "Could I get a decaf coffee to go?"

Before she could continue he added, "With a little whip cream smiley, right?"

Pausing, she said smiling, "How'd you know?"

Pleased with her response, he smiled back and said, "You tend to get different drinks, but you always ask for a whip cream smiley."

A little creeped out by his apparent fascination with her, she let the knowledge that he had been keeping tabs on her drink orders go. Putting the back of her hand against her forehead, she said in an exaggerated tone, "My God, I'm becoming predictable!" She began to giggle and continued, "How about this, instead of a smiley, just squirt a whip cream zig-zag and call it a snake. That way, I get to stay mysterious."

"Or how about this," he said smiling broadly at their interaction, "when I finish making your drink, you come around the counter and I can show you how to draw a picture in chocolate. That way, you can learn the art of being a barista, and keep your mystery intact."

Pleased with the mental distraction, she agreed, "That sounds fun, thanks!" She would do anything to take her mind off of the professor.

As they kept talking, Parker decided he was completely taken with the petite blonde. He had been watching her for weeks, but she was a pleasure to be around. Jen had said numerous times that her friend was off-limits, but he couldn't help it. The girl was adorable. She came around the shop almost daily to grab a drink and chat, but this was the first time they had spoken more than two words without Jen interrupting. He knew they were around the same age because they were both seniors, but he attended the local public school. Eavesdropping on Jen's conversations with Buffy, it seemed she was planning on becoming an artist. He had seen some of her work on the walls in Jen's office and in the back sitting room, but he had expected her to be introverted. He just assumed all artists were odd, but she seemed completely charming.

While he was building up his courage to ask her out, he caught a patron's eyes drilling holes in his head from one of the tables. The man was turned toward a large mirror and without turning around he could watch their conversation. It was clear, the person was pissed about something, but Parker couldn't put his finger on the problem.

_What the hell is that guy's problem, _Parker thought staring back with as much intensity, _well, if the guy wants to be a cock-block he's gonna have to walk his ass over here. I'm not letting this opportunity fly by. Dick. _

_25 Minutes Earlier_

Spike was annoyed with his shitty luck. First, he might have ruined his chances at creating a long-lasting relationship with Elizabeth, and now he was watching as Dru took another man into his flat. She was trying to send a message and it was working. He was pissed, but at the same time confused.

He loved Dru, she was his dark princess. She had always been an odd beauty, with porcelain skin, dark raven colored hair, and slender delicate features, but her personality always crisscrossed between sane and mentally unstable. The knowledge that she was going to fuck some man in his bed was causing him to seethe like a wild dog. He watched as she unlocked the front door and dragged the poor sucker through the threshold.

_That poof's in for a treat, _thought Spike eyeing the couple, _she's got her whippin' gloves on. _

Poor bastard didn't know what crazy shit Dru was into and after tonight, he would be hooked. She enjoyed causing pain. Though he was never in love with the idea of having his back whipped with a metal rod or having burning candle wax smeared on his dick, he had learned to love it, just like he had learned to live with her infidelity. But for some reason, today, he was unable to contain his rage. Sure, he had been bad by looking at another woman, but he would never cheat on Dru with someone else. He wouldn't do her the injustice. He had committed himself to loving only her, and this is what he got. Unfaithfulness. The one thing he hated about Dru and she was using it against him, again. He watched as they flicked on lights going up the stairs and stumbled into his room. He couldn't deal with this blatant betrayal right now, not after he had such a good afternoon. This shit could wait.

He angrily wandered along the sidewalk with a smoke sticking out of his mouth, until he came to the local coffee shop. Usually he went to his regular place "The Coffee Bean", but he wasn't in the mood to see people he might have to talk too. Not with his mental state down the tubes. He walked in and noticed the place was empty. Just two people talking in what looked like a back sun room.

Spike walked over to the counter where a young man was standing and said as politely as he could in his current state of mind, "Hey kid, can I get a coffee?"

Slightly offended by his term, Parker glared up at him and said defiantly, "Yeah, gramps, what can I get you?"

Spike decided to ignore the boy. He could knock the shit out of him, but he wasn't in the mood for a fight. Just wanted to sit in the corner and look out the window. Maybe get lost in his thoughts.

"Yeah, can I get a large black coffee. That's it."

"No problem." Parker turned to start working on the coffee and decided not to push the snide remark further. The guy was having a shitty day. It was written all over his face.

Spike paid, grabbed his coffee, and headed over to an empty seat in the back corner. He sat and was met with a large mirror on the back wall. He assumed it was placed there to make the place appear larger, but really it just looked tacky. He watched as the barista kid behind the counter cleaned up and said goodbye to the owner, Jen. Spike was surprised he could see and hear so well from this side of the room, so he deiced to just people watch to take his mind off of Dru.

Spike watched as people came and went, not staying to sit, but just getting their drinks to go. After 15 minutes, he was going to leave when he saw the barista kid's face light up. He wasn't able to watch his soap opera today, so he had to settle for this kid's love life. Spike watched as the barista fixed his hair and moved toward the counter.

_God, _thought Spike, _this kid must really want this bint. _

As soon as the words left his thoughts he heard the girl's voice.

"Hey, Parker is Jen here today?" said Elizabeth walking toward the stupid kid at the counter.

"Oh, hey Buffy," said the little ponce, "Jen's out for the day, but she should be back tomorrow. Anything I can help you with?"

Spike stopped breathing for a moment. _So, _he thought smiling widely like a child getting a new toy, _she goes by Buffy, not Elizabeth. Probably why she didn't sign with 'Elizabeth' and decided to write 'Miss Summers' instead. Good. Means she wasn't offended by the pet name._ He listened more to their conversation. Not enjoying the tone and direction it was heading.

"Nah, it's all good," she said waving her hand nonchalantly. "It isn't an emergency or anything." Leaning on the counter, she said, "Could I get a decaf coffee to go?"

Spike's eyes widened watching her bend over the counter. He had a nice view of her rear, and was now acutely aware that her skirt was riding up her thighs. _Bet she doesn't even realize the effect she has on the poor poof. _He watched as the little prick eyed Buffy with desire. He didn't like this interaction one bit. She could do better than that prat.

Before she could continue, the kid added, "With a little whip cream smiley, right?"

Pausing, she said smiling, "How'd you know?"

Pleased with her response, he smiled back and said, "You tend to get different drinks, but you always ask for a whip cream smiley."

_What a creep, _thought Spike trying to mentally beat down his rival. _The little prat has absolutely no game. She's won't be into that at all._ He crossed his fingers and hoped she'd leave, breaking the ponce's heart in the process. To his distaste, she played along and even giggled at the comment.

Putting the back of her hand against her forehead, she said in an exaggerated tone, "My God, I'm becoming predictable!" She began to giggle and continued, "How about this, instead of a smiley, just squirt a whip cream zig-zag and call it a snake. That way, I get to stay mysterious."

_Great idea luv, _thought Spike, _stay mysterious to that prat. Then mosey over here and sit with me, either on a chair or on my knee, if you feel so inclined. _He knew his imagination was getting the best of him, but a man could dream right?

"Or how about this," the prat said smiling broadly at Buffy, "when I finish making your drink, you come around the counter and I can show you how to draw a picture in chocolate. That way, you can learn the art of being a barista, and keep your mystery intact."

_Say no, luv, please say no, _thought Spike mentally praying she didn't go along with the kid's sad excuse for a feel up.

She smirked and said gingerly, "That sounds fun, thanks!"

Spike stared holes into the barista's head hoping it would freak him out enough to stop talking to Buffy. There was no way he was going to let Buffy have her little lesson with the prat. He would make a scene before allowing that poof's hands on her.

Spike was winning this staring contest if it killed him. The kid was definitely trying to send a message, but no matter what, this was one battle he wasn't about to lose. The kid didn't realize he and Buffy knew each other, not well, but she felt comfortable enough with him to allow him to grab her hand. At least he had that going for him.

Spike watched as Buffy was about to go behind the counter, and he instinctively stood unable to stop his legs. Buttoning his suit jacket he went into "British charmer" mode. The little poof didn't stand a chance.

"'ello luv," said Spike ginning widely at Buffy, "funny runnin' into you here."


	6. Chapter 6: The Walk

Author's Note: Thank you all for the continued support of this story. As you might have noticed, this chapter is extra-long because of the wait. I will try and publish weekly, but I can't make any promises. Overall, this chapter was difficult to write because I wanted their conversation to be appropriate and at the same time, fun and flirty. I hope I achieved my goal and kept you interested. Much love, CC. (~˘▾˘)~

**Young Girl**

**Chapter 6**

Buffy thought she was seeing things for a moment. The man she had just been intimately thinking about was standing in front of her. She glanced in his direction with a puzzled look on her face. Maybe she was seeing things?

_Guess I know what it feels like to be stranded in the desert, _she thought internally laughing, _he's like my own personal sexy mirage. _

She waited for him to talk again so she could confirm he was actually there in front of her and not some figment of her imagination.

_God, I'm exhausted, _she thought rubbing her eyes.

Her mother had gone to New York again on business, leaving her by herself for a week. She hadn't slept well at all the night before, contributing that to the three enchiladas she ate in bed while watching reruns of "Supernatural". Probably wasn't her most brilliant plan, seeing as she knew damn well crazy nightmares ensued when enchiladas were added to the mix, but she didn't regret it.

Willow and her older sister Fred had come over to check on her when she called about a dire spider emergency in her bathroom and they ended up bringing along her favorite enchiladas from "Fiesta House", a dive bar a few blocks away. Since Fred was 25, she could go in there without being carded, while Buffy and Willow always had to eat outside on the curb. They didn't mind though, the food was worth it. Even Fred, who swore she was a vegetarian in public, enjoyed devouring them every once in a while.

Spike watched as Buffy's eyes widened. He couldn't tell if she was daydreaming or caught off guard. He decided to repeat his previous sentiment. "'ello luv, said Spike again, trying to break through whatever trance Buffy was under, "funny runnin' into you here."

Being tired and getting caught off guard was ruining her conversational skills. She wasn't sure how she should respond and ended up gawking at him.

He was met with the same dumbfounded look. Feeling insecure and a bit rejected, he quickly kept talking to take some of the tension out of the room, "So. . ." he looked around desperately, "you drink coffee too." He held up his cup hoping she would at least say "yes" or "no". He smiled widely waiting for a reply and silently nodded his head at Parker standing behind her.

Something clicked within her when she saw Spike nod to Parker. _Oh. . .My. . .GOD, _she thought suddenly, _he probably thinks I'm easy!_

If he could hear her thoughts, he would understand her internal dilemma, but as it was, all three stood staring at each other in awkward silence. He probably thought she was a floozy, flirting with anything that spoke nicely to her. He'd probably witnessed the conversation between her and Parker and thought she was a colossal joke. Her face blushed suddenly and she put her hands up to cover the embarrassment. Trying to turn his attention away from her face, she squeaked out the question, "What. . .what brings you to this neighborhood Professor?"

_Was that blush for me, _he thought while watching her face turn pink, _probably not, she's just embarrassed that I caught her with the little ponce._

Feeling relived that she responded and kept the conversation going, he said back, "I live just 'round the corner." Pausing, he continued with another question, "This your regular hang out?"

Sighing and thanking God he didn't ask about Parker, Buffy answered, "My mom's friend Jen owns this place, so I come here almost every day. I live a few blocks away and it's on the way to school. So it's pretty convenient. " She realized her mouth was running on overdrive, so she brought the conversation back to him by asking, "I've never seen you in here before. Is this your first time?"

Eyeing her, he went briefly into gutter mode unable to catch himself. _First time you say, _he thought feeling his heart speed up like a pimply dweeb, _would feel like my first time with you luv._ He snapped back to reality and smirked casually.

"Yeah, was gonna go to my flat, but got thirsty," he said not wanting to bring up Dru and her fuck buddy bumping uglies in his bed. He peered around Buffy momentarily and saw that the little prat was sending him a look of pure hatred. Eager to further annoy the ponce with his presence, he continued speaking only to Buffy hoping it would be clear she was "claimed", "I'm headin' out now, would you care to take a walk? I wanted to speak to you 'bout your sketch." He smirked as her cheeks abruptly turned bright red.

_Now she's blushin' for me, _he thought pleased with himself. He liked when he was the cause of her involuntary actions. It made him want her more, which he found hard to believe, considering he was already in deep.

Making the quickest decision of her life, she turned toward Parker, and dismissed him without a second thought. "Sorry, Parker, I really wanted to talk to Professor Pratt about my work. You understand right?" Not allowing him to answer, she snatched her drink out of his hand and set money on the counter. As she walked toward the door with Spike, she called behind her shoulder, "You can keep the change."

Spike was astonished. Buffy dismissed the poor poof almost immediately after receiving his invitation, but he decided not to read too much into the action. She probably just wanted to have critical feedback about her pieces. The funny thing was, he couldn't shake the feeling that she might like him as well, but he knew better than to get ahead of himself.

_Thinks I'm good lookin' is all. Even Dru just wanted me for my body, _he thought becoming depressed by his mind's use of past tense. _Doesn't want me anymore,_ he thought,perking up seconds later to Buffy walking through the door in front of him. She tugged on her short skirt aggressively trying to magically lengthen it. Good thing that wasn't possible. He was planning on making this walk last as long as possible.

"Which way to your flat, luv?" he said looking down at Buffy still trying to fix her hem.

"Oh," she said looking up through her glasses surprised and very glad he had used the pet name again, "you were going to walk me home?"

"Of course," he said gently, "I'm not a caveman you know. Do have manners."

Feeling embarrassed for possibly offending him or even insinuating he wasn't gentlemanly she said while stuttering, "I'm sorry Professor. . .I. . .umm. . .I didn't mean to offend you."

The sides of his mouth shot up in a large grin and he said, "I'm just messin' with you, pet. And please, call me William when we aren't in class. It makes me feel so bloody old when you say Professor."

She punched his arm casually without thinking and said, "I don't think I know you well enough for you to be 'messin' with me, but sure, I can call you William out of school. Makes me more conformable too."

_Did I seriously just punch him, _she screamed in her head, _I have the flirtation skills of a 10-year old!_

_Did she just punch my arm, _he thought loving every minute of their interaction, _saucy minx has to know she's flirtin'._

There was another silence, as both parties tried to figure out what to say next. Taking the lead, Spike said, "So your flat is which way?"

She pointed to the left, "I'm a few blocks that way, between Hanford and Adams."

"Nice area that is. The townhouses are beautiful. Must get a good view of the city?"

"Right now we do, but we're thinking about moving a few blocks away into a smaller place."

"Why's that, pet?" William asked sincerely.

"Well, my mom isn't here a lot, because she travels for work, so we thought getting a smaller place would be a good way to get me ready for college. I'm currently looking for a roommate. That's why I stopped by the shop today. Jen, the owner, has an open room and I wanted to ask her about it before someone else got the chance."

"Smart woman your mum is," he said quickly.

"Why'd you say that?" Buffy asked curiously.

"Maybe it's just me, but it seems your mum set this whole thing up so you could live with Jen." He watched as Buffy put two and two together. Her brow came together and the realization hit. Spike continued with his explanation, "Since you said she isn't here much, she wants you to have someone 'round in case of an emergency, but she wants you to believe you're being independent."

Without taking into account her actions, Buffy gripped Spike's arm to stop him mid stride.

_Her hand's so soft, _he thought eyeing the manicured hand touching his forearm, _she probably doesn't even realize she's grabbin' onto me right now._

She turned to look Spike in the eyes and yelled, "HOLY COW!"

Spike started to laugh at her sudden awareness. _I feel like I just told a child there's no Santa_,he thought.

She absentmindedly gripped his arm tighter and vented aloud. "I can't believe her! How'd I not see it! It was so obvious. Well," she huffed putting her hand on her hip, "if she thinks I'm gonna live with Jen she has another thing coming. That's all I need is some informant telling my mom everything I do! I should find some random person to live with just to spite her."

Grabbing her arm gently, Spike said, "I'm thinkin' she just wants someone to look out for you. Not an informant." He laughed again as he watched her face drop. She must have forgotten he was standing there during her little rant because her face turned bright red again. "Have you been watchin' _Homeland_," he said still chuckling, "you sound like a government conspiracy theorist."

"Do not," she said grinning at the comparison. "I'm much prettier than Claire Danes," she said releasing her hand from his arm, "and, hey, I don't have bipolar disorder!"

_She's absolutely charming, _he thought watching her look up at him, _just being 'round her is like walkin' in sunshine._

"I agree," he said wishing her petite hand was still gripping his arm.

"Huh?" said Buffy wanting him to clarify.

"You're much prettier than Claire Danes, but based on your conspiracy theory, I wouldn't discount the whole 'bipolar' thing." He bathed in her award winning smile and watched as she once again lightly punched his arm.

_He has to be the most charming man I have ever met, _she thought feeling her heart race, _I can't believe he thinks I'm prettier than Claire Danes! Breathe Buffy, breathe!_

Feeling the conversation turn more flirty and less appropriate, Spike looked up unexpectedly, holding his palm to the sky, and said, changing the subject, "Feels like it's gonna rain, we should get goin'. Wouldn't want you to get your uniform drenched."

_I wouldn't mind that one bit, _he thought admiring her white button up shirt. He figured that trying to keep his mind out of the gutter around her would be too much work, so he let his thoughts flow. It's not like anyone could read his mind.

Seeing her shiver slightly, Spike unbuttoned his suit jacket and draped it over Buffy's shoulders. Though the action was used more for dates, he couldn't see her freeze to death. The rain had chilled the air considerably.

Buffy was taken aback by Spike's sweet gesture. He must have seen her shiver because two seconds later, he was laying his jacket on her shoulders. His scent suffocated her senses and again brought a nice shade of pink to her cheeks.

_I'm actually surprised I like this scent, _she thought inhaling deeply, _who would have thought, cigarettes, leather, and Old Spice would be such an alluring combination. He's such a man's man. _

They continued on the path toward Buffy's house and both slowed their pace when they noticed how close they were to her home. Finally, Spike broached the subject of her work, "I was very impressed with your pieces. But I have to ask, what does 'B.S.' stand for?" He knew her name was Buffy, but he wanted her to feel comfortable enough to tell him. Maybe she only allowed her friends and family to call her that? He wasn't sure, but he hoped that she fancied him enough to permit him to call her by her nickname.

Turning down a side street to avoid a sudden burst of rain, Buffy was thrilled he had asked about it. She didn't want him calling her, 'Miss Summers' or 'Elizabeth' anymore, so this was the perfect opportunity. Stopping under a canopy she said, "It stands for Buffy Summers." She thought he might laugh so she speedily said, "It might sound stupid, but it's been my nickname for so many years that I actually don't use my given name outside of school, unless you count my mom when she's angry. So please, call me Buffy." She took off her glasses for a moment and wiped the rain water off the lens while secretly gauging his reaction. All her past boyfriends had thought her name was stupid and regularly told her so. She prayed that Spike liked it, and didn't think it was too weird.

_I'm glad she felt I could know, _he thought warmed by her minor confession.

"Buffy, Buffy, Buffy," he said aloud testing the waters, "short and sweet. Little peculiar, but it fits your personality perfectly. It has a nice ring to it as well."

_I wish I had a tape recorder, _she thought in disappointment, _I could listen to him say my name all day long with that accent of his. Maybe even make it my ringtone. . .or better yet, my alarm in the morning._

Her face burned again from a blush and she looked away hoping he didn't catch it.

He smiled knowing he had made her blush again. He wasn't sure what he did this time, but anything that made her face burn up was something he wanted to repeat. Seeing as the rain had subsided for the moment, Spike tapped Buffy's arm nudging both of them out from underneath the canopy. Spike didn't want to leave, but it was getting late and being seen with a student in public would not be good for either one of them.

They were getting close to Buffy's house, so Spike pushed the subject of her sketch to the front of the conversation.

"I was gonna ask, why'd you decide to use me in your sketch?" He watched as she turned quickly to face him. Her face was very pink and he couldn't take his eyes off of her. He continued, "I mean, I'm honored, judging by your skill level, you must be in the sketching and drawing program. Is there any particular reason you chose me?" He waited eagerly for her response.

Spike slowed his pace thinking she might be conjuring up a good comeback when she said confidently, "I found you worthy of my attention."

_That's gotta be the most flattering thing anyone has ever said to me, _he thought savoring her words. He didn't know if she meant it, but he would cherish this moment for the rest of his life. He thought for a moment drifting back to his time with Dru. _I don't think in all the years Dru and I have been together she has ever said anything that kind to me. _

Buffy watched as William studied her face. She couldn't tell if he was weirded out or pleased with her statement. Trying to elaborate, so she could save some face if he was freaked out she added, "You are the first professor to really challenge me, and it was my way of saying, 'thank you'." His face fell slightly, and she decided he had been pleased with her statement. Now, she felt her compliment had been downgraded.

_Way to go Buf, your foot will forever have a place in your mouth, _she thought kicking herself in the ass. _I basically gave him a compliment and then slapped his face two seconds later. Yup, I'm truly a charmer._

_Knew I shouldn't have gotten my hopes up, _he thought trying to keep his smile plastered on his face and failing miserably, _I need to recognize I am a mentor and professor to her and not some school boy she might fancy. _

Sensing an awkward moment boiling to the surface, both Spike and Buffy said in unison, "So, how was your first day."

They both abruptly stopped on the sidewalk and eyed each other. Something felt right between them. Maybe not love, but something was definitely there, just below the surface.

Spike might not be allowed to love this young woman, but he felt a connection to her that he had never felt with anyone else.

Buffy stared back feeling the same thing. She figured he thought she was immature and child-like, but there was something between them. He might not find her attractive, but they talked with such ease, so she tried to reiterate what was going on in her head.

"Ya know what's weird, William?"

Spike had no idea where she was going with this so he answered back, "What's weird, luv?"

With absolutely no shame, Buffy said, "I feel like I've known you forever." Watching him perk up to her words she continued, "I don't know why and I can't explain it, but this," she pointed back and forth between them, "whatever 'this' is between us, just works."

_She took the words right outta my mouth, _he thought agreeing with her statement.

"I feel the same way," he said quietly watching her face turn fiery red under his gaze.

Just as they were planning to explore these thoughts further, Buffy stopped in front of her home. "This is me," she said pointing to her townhouse. "Would you like to come inside for a moment? You can have something to drink if you're still thirsty."

_Wish I could luv, _he thought noticing the distance between them had diminished rapidly.

"Sorry luv," said Spike with obvious disappointment, "I have to get back to my flat. A friend of mine is there and we need to talk."

"I understand," said Buffy equally disappointed. "I will see you tomorrow William. And don't worry, I will refer to you as Professor at school. Thanks again for walking me home. It was very sweet."

"No problem," he said in a gloomy manner, "see you in class."

They both stood on the sidewalk waiting for the other to move away, but they just gazed at each other. Finally, having the foresight to leave, Spike waved and started walking back to his flat.

_Already miss her, _he thought wishing she was coming with him, _she's like sunshine she is._

Spike walked briskly realizing he could not avoid going home any longer. Whether he liked it or not, he and Dru would have to talk about what transpired earlier in the evening. Clearly, she wanted to end the relationship again, and after her little display, he was all for it. Maybe Buffy had given him confidence he never knew existed? Her praise and attention did wonders for his self-esteem. He was ready for whatever Dru threw his way.

Turning down his street, he saw Dru leaning against his mailbox smoking what he presumed were his cigarettes from his bedside table.

"Spike," she yelled out while strolling toward him, "I've missed my dark prince! Where have you been? You know my show starts in an hour." Her lips found his face and she hungrily kissed him.

Spike kissed back wrapping his arms around her body, but then sharply broke away. Spike wasn't buying her crap this time. She only wanted him when it was convenient for her. Her boy toy obviously didn't stick around to accompany her to her art auction, so he was yet again her second choice. Feeling a rage take ahold of his body he slowed his mind to get under control. Finally, after clenching and unclenching his fists several times, he said in a neutral tone, "Where's he at Dru?"

"Whatever do you mean?" she said as innocently as possible.

"The boy, Dru," he said feeling his voice start to shake with despair, "the young one you fucked in my bed this afternoon. Where'd you put him?"

"Another unworthy opponent, he was," she stated matter-of-factly. "Couldn't keep up like you. Had to send him on his way just like the others."

"Wait, help me understand," he said putting his hand up, "you're all of a sudden callin' me worthy of your love? Since when?" he said venomously.

"I'm not. You're still not worthy of me, but I put up with you right," her tone now bordered both annoyance and resentment at him for not being good enough for her tastes. She continued her delirious rant by saying, "You know you need me Spike, you can't live without me, remember? I'm the one that decides."

Hearing her say those things to him once again changed something in him. He wasn't the Spike she knew yesterday, hell, he wasn't the Spike he thought he knew yesterday. He was worthy of someone and he wanted to focus all of his energy in that direction. Whether anything came of his friendship with Buffy or not, it was still more satisfying than listening to Dru belittle his existence. He decided to say the speech he had wanted to say since their first breakup.

"Dru, princess," he called in an enduring tone stepping in her direction, "I'm done being your whippin' boy. I'm movin' out immediately and I can promise you, I'll never be back." He watched as her facial features tightened in response. She wasn't used to him talking back and it was like getting slapped in the face. Spike lightly grabbed his spare key from her grasp and put it in his pocket. He continued by saying, "So don't call me, and don't visit me, because I'll never love you again. I need someone that believes I'm worthy of their love and devotion and well, you're not that person. I truly hope you find someone that meets your god-like criteria and is deemed 'worthy' in your mind. I'm apparently not that person, nor will I ever be. So, this is goodbye."

Spike took Dru's engagement ring off of his finger and gently set it in her hand. "I know you never said 'yes', and frankly, were never planning to say 'yes', but I want you to know that I'd have made you happy. I'd have been faithful and devoted, and in love with you for the rest of my life. I'm sorry I couldn't be the man you wanted me to be." He leaned down and lightly kissed her lips for closure. Feeling his heart rip out of his chest, Spike turned his flat key in the lock and shut the door on Dru when it looked like she would respond to his words. He vowed this would be the last time he would look toward Dru again. He was tired of the darkness, he wanted to bathe in sunlight.

_10 minutes earlier_

Buffy watched as Spike rounded a corner feeling very empty without his presence. "Am I crazy," she said aloud, "I just met him this morning. How can I be so head over heels so soon?"

Wishing he would come back and talk with her more, she noticed Spike's jacket was still dangling from her shoulders.

_I must have someone who likes me upstairs, _she thought smiling at her find, _now I have a reason to follow him home. He NEEDS this jacket today, it's essential._ She thought trying to rationalize her decision. She couldn't wait to see him and he'd just left.

She walked at a slow pace leaving just enough room in-between them that he didn't notice her following. Buffy desperately wanted to know where he resided so she didn't want to bombard him immediately. Just as William was going to enter him apartment, she noticed a woman smoking outside his building.

_She's stunning, _thought Buffy examining the woman, _she seems so poised and doll-like. Wonder who she is? Maybe that's the friend he was talking about?_

"Spike," the woman yelled out while strolling toward him, "I've missed my dark prince! Where have you been? You know my show starts in an hour."

_SPIKE!_ Buffy thought internally, _he's Spike. . .MY SPIKE. . .the garden guy! So that note I left, _she thought realizing how rude she must have sounded, _he must think I'm a total bitch! Now that he knows I'm 'B.S' he probably won't want anything to do with me. He practically ran away from me at my doorstep._ Her thoughts took off running and she couldn't stop the flood of misery. _I make men run from me! First Owen, then Scott, and of course, Angel. . .and anything that could have happened with William. . .I mean Spike. . .is now ruined because of me! _She buried her face in her hands letting her self-pity take over. She smiled in anger and thought, _Oh, welcome foot, nice to see you again. Coming to permanently move into my mouth?_ She was becoming more irate by the second while watching the young woman stroll over to Spike.

Buffy watched as the young woman's lips found his face and she hungrily kissed him.

Pulled out of her thoughts, she screamed internally as she watched the couple. _He's not yours, you. . . you. . . skank! _She had never been this possessive before. Her body flushed as she watched the beautiful dark haired woman wrap her hands in his platinum hair. Buffy's jealousy flamed in the distance.

Spike kissed back wrapping his arms around her body, but then sharply broke away. Spike wasn't buying her crap this time. Buffy watched as he said in a neutral tone, "Where's he at Dru?"

_Where's who at, _thought Buffy listening in on their conversation.

"Whatever do you mean?" said the bitch with the beautiful body.

"The boy, Dru," said Spike in despair, "the young one you fucked in my bed this afternoon. Where'd you put him?"

_Who would cheat when you have that at home, _thought Buffy looking longingly at Spike.

"Another unworthy opponent, he was," she stated matter-of-factly. "Couldn't keep up like you. Had to send him on his way just like the others."

Buffy's jealousy rose to the surface again and in fury she punched the brick wall next to her. Without recognizing it, she broke the skin around her knuckles. She didn't mind, her body wanted to pummel the woman making claim to her man.

_I have no right, _she thought momentarily, _but seeing as she FUCKED someone in his bed, she doesn't have any right either! _She tried to fight off the woman's statement about Spike's stamina, but couldn't help the impending rage building within her.

"Wait, help me understand," Spike said putting his hand up, "you're all of a sudden callin' me worthy of your love? Since when?" he said venomously.

Buffy could see the sadness surrounding his statement and wanted to comfort him in her arms. "You're worthy," she said quietly to herself, "it's that ho-bag that isn't right for you."

"I'm not. You're still not worthy of me, but I put up with you right," her tone now bordered both annoyance and resentment at him for not being good enough for her tastes. Buffy watched as the woman continued her delirious rant by saying, "You know you need me Spike, you can't live without me, remember? I'm the one that decides."

Again Buffy couldn't take her eyes off of the couple. Watching this conversation was killing her, so she wondered what he was thinking. _I had to see Angel cheat, _she thought remembering his betrayal, _but he did it to get back at me for not loving him as much as he loved me. _Seeing Spike's face fall to suicidal proportions she came to a conclusion, _this woman doesn't seem to care about him at all. They have history, that's for sure, but she's treating him like he's nothing to her, no better than a bug under her shoe._

Buffy eyed Spike as he stepped forward toward the woman who, only seconds earlier, slapped him in the face verbally.

"Dru, princess," he called in an enduring tone stepping in her direction, "I'm done being your whippin' boy. I'm movin' out immediately and I can promise you, I'll never be back." Buffy watched as the woman's facial features tightened in response. She smiled at Spike's apparent revelation and her heart sped up in satisfaction. Spike continued by saying, "So don't call me, and don't visit me, because I'll never love you again. I need someone that believes I'm worthy of their love and devotion and well, you're not that person. I truly hope you find someone that meets your god-like criteria and is deemed 'worthy' in your mind. I'm apparently not that person, nor will I ever be. So, this is goodbye."

Spike took Buffy's favorite ring off of his finger and gently set it in her hand. "I know you never said 'yes', and frankly, were never planning to say 'yes', but I want you to know that I'd have made you happy. I'd have been faithful and devoted, and in love with you for the rest of my life. I'm sorry I couldn't be the man you wanted me to be." Buffy didn't know what he meant, but she had a sinking feeling that the ring she had taken such a liking to was supposed to be this woman's engagement ring in the future. Spike leaned down and lightly kissed her lips. Buffy reckoned the moment was Spike's closure and calmed her racing heart. She watched as Spike turned his flat key in the lock and shut the door on Dru when it looked like she would respond to his words.

"You're worthy," said Buffy quietly to herself. She tugged his jacket closer to her body and decided that she would give it to him at lunch tomorrow. Since he was her "Oak Tree On-looker" it seemed fit that she come clean and apologize for the note. _Maybe he'll accept my apology, _she thought hoping with her entire being he would. She could feel rain coming again, so she quickly headed in the direction of her home.


	7. Chapter 7: Passions

Author's Note: Though this chapter is a little depressing at the beginning, I have to say it was one of my favorites to write. I like writing in Spike's POV, so every once in a while there might be a chapter specifically tailored to his views. Thanks for the continued support. I get all warm and fuzzy looking at the viewership. You guys are the BEST!

**Young Girl**

**Chapter 7**

The elevator chimed and Spike slowly entered dragging his feet as he did so.

_What've I done, _one side of his brain was saying, while the other calmly responded, _It's for the best._

Spike softly rubbed his face in exasperation and sighed heavily as he pushed button 5. His hand lingered at the button as he took in the missing ring that now left a slight tan line. Gently pulling his hand away, he set it on his chest just above his heart.

_I feel like I've lost half my soul, _he internally grieved looking at his reflection in the gold metal elevator. _God, I look like shit, _he thought giving himself a once over, _have my cheeks always been this hollow? _Spike leaned closer to the reflection turning his face from side to side. _I look like skin and bones._

As his depression set in, another chime from the elevator indicated he had made it to his floor. Leisurely, the doors slid open and he glumly made his way down the hall to his flat.

"Tonight," he mumbled to himself, "I shall drink myself stupid."

Feeling inside his pockets for his keys, he pulled out Dru's spare and stared at one of the many symbols of his love he had given her over the years. Spike twisted the key in his hand watching it glimmer in the hallway lights. She had never given him a key to her flat. Even when he had inquired about it, she'd dismissed his request and simply began rambling about stars on the ceiling. He would miss that the most. Sure the sex was brilliant, with her chains and whips and hot wax, but her bouts of crazy were always peppered with small tidbits of appreciation and tenderness. Caring for an artist, such as Dru, hadn't been easy, but in those moments, she had genuinely appreciated his presence. That had made loving her unconditionally so worth it.

_Why Dru, _he thought feeling tears start to form in his eyes, _I know you never loved me, but was throwin' that back in my face so damn amusin' to you?_

Finally, after struggling to put the key into the lock, he turned it and entered his flat. Feeling around the wall for the light switch presented itself as a problem, but what he saw when the lights flickered on made him even more distraught. His home was destroyed. Apparently, during her romp, Dru had decided to redecorate, if you could really call it that, with her boy toy leaving all of his space wrecked. Spike walked from room to room picking up torn cushions and other broken furniture. Glass shards, smashed sculptures, and other remnants sprawled across the floor leaving chaos in its wake.

_How could she slash my father's art, _he thought bending over to examine one of his late father's paintings that now bore a large cut down the front, _it's all I had left of him._

As he looked at the painting in misery, he hoped one of his contacts, whom restored art for a living, could salvage it. Setting the painting down on his scratched dining room table, Spike observed that his bedroom door had been cracked open in the literal sense. He figured the boy had punched his way into the room in a fit of passion instead of merely turning the knob.

_Fuckin' bright lad you brought back here Dru, _he thought calculating repair costs in his head. _It'd be easier to just buy a new flat. These bleedin' repair costs are gonna run me into the poor house. _

He comprehended that repairs of this magnitude would probably take a long time to fix. _Don't know if I can stay here another sodding minute, let alone several weeks. _

Pushing his bedroom door open, he decided the damage done both to his heart and his personal property was so disparaging, that moving out would be the most plausible option, if he wanted to move on as quickly as possible. Rotating in a slow circle, he spotted some ripped pillows leaking out feathers all around his bed, red paint covering his new hardwood floors and windows, several used condoms hanging off his nightstand, and a trail of water seemingly coming from his master bathroom tub.

_So they left the bath on as well, _he thought hurriedly turning the faucet off.

Taking no time at all to barrel over in anguish, he promptly called his neighbors below praying the water hadn't leaked into their flat. Sighing in relief a few moments later, he was told it had only caused a slight discoloration to their living room. He caulked it up to burglars and apologized copiously for the damage, promising to fix it straightaway. Spike also took it upon himself to call in sick to school the next day. Buffy would hopefully be disappointed that he wasn't there, but he needed to drink himself into a stupor. The longer he waited, the quicker his sober mind would beg for Dru. He thought momentarily about groveling at her feet, but looking around his flat told him to think otherwise.

Now that he'd absorbed Dru's new renovations, Spike wandered over to his locked liquor cabinet and hoped she hadn't figured out the pin code. He only kept his favorite most expensive liquor hidden away for celebrations.

_Hell with it,_ he thought contemplating whether he should go out and buy beer or open his expensive stash.

Bending down, he felt that the keys were sticky, but went ahead and typed his code in anyway. Apparently, she had tried to break in, but with no luck.

"Knew she'd never guess my birthday," he said aloud hurt by the realization, "probably doesn't even know it."

He examined the vault and grabbed his Macallan 21 Year Old Scotch with a grin. Though he presumed it could sell for around $250, this was one of those precious times that called for the good stuff.

"If I'm gonna drink till I drop, might as well drink the good stuff," he casually said to himself.

He quickly undid the top and took several large swigs before comfortably sitting in his recliner chair. Reaching down to grab the handle, he disappointedly found that it was cut off, completely ruining its main function.

"Are you bloody kickin' me," he said pouring the scotch into a shot glass. "My favorite fuckin' chair destroyed. Thanks princess," he laughed darkly, inhaling the shot.

Gazing up, he noted that his television was scratched, but nothing dire had happened to it. He smiled and grabbed the remote.

_Maybe not all's lost,_ he hoped glaring at the television.

"Just gonna catch up on some _Passions_, then I'll be in better spirits," he mumbled uncharacteristically optimistic. Scrolling through his list of recorded programs, he realized Dru had only kept her shows. Spike stared in disbelief at the screen boiling at his find. Standing curtly, he chucked his remote at the wall, watching as it broke into several pieces.

"What am I gonna do now!" Spike shouted at the screen in anger. "Timmy's down the bloody well and. . .and. . .what if he gets found and I fuckin' missed it!"

Inhaling deeply, Spike grabbed his bottle and melted back into his chair.

Spike flinched awake to the sound of water splashing and assumed it was coming from his master bath. Blinking the sleep out of his eyes, he stood and tiptoed to the shut door wondering who could have come into his flat uninvited.

Knocking lightly he said, "Dru, luv, that you?"

When he received no answer, he jerked the handle slightly allowing it to creak open. A gust of hot steam poured out and enveloped him, lightly curling his hair from the humidity.

"Who the bloody hell is bathing in my tub?" He yelled with enthusiasm trying to figure out whose outline he was seeing.

"Just me," said the woman beckoning him to walk over with her manicured finger. "I was drenched from the rain and didn't think you'd mind if I just popped in for a quick dip while you were sleeping."

Allowing his vision to adjust, he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Buffy was the culprit. Spike's mouth fell open from her boldness, and he slowly edged his way closer to the water making sure to keep his eyes plastered on the ceiling instead of her naked form. Though he couldn't see anything because of the bubbles, he didn't need to "see" her in order to get aroused. Her personality and actions did that all on their own. "You don't mind do you?" said Buffy innocently after Spike hadn't said anything.

"No, pet, I don't mind, but it's a bit inappropriate don't you think," chocked out Spike still clearly in shock. "How'd you know I lived here?" He asked trying to figure that out for himself.

"You gave me your address, remember?" said Buffy completely sincere. "You told me if I was nervous sleeping at my house alone I could come over."

He couldn't remember telling her that, but she didn't seem like a liar, so if she said he offered, he probably did and forgot. "Sorry, pet, I must have said it and just forgot." Feeling confident, Spike said with a leer, "'fraid of the dark are you?" He still kept his eyes on the ceiling, but his voice was less squeaky and more pronounced.

Hearing Buffy clear her throat, Spike looked down reflexively. Her hair was clipped in a top knot and her arms were lazily draped over the side of the bubbly tub. She had taken off her makeup and glasses and her bare face was stunning to him. His eyes traveled down her body noticing two pedicured feet dangling over the edge of the tub crossed and gently bobbing up and down. He gawked as he took in her toned legs and petite frame just barely covered by vanilla scented bubbles.

"I was afraid you didn't want me," she whispered looking up at Spike with a slight pout forming on her lips. Unconsciously, Spike's legs brought him even closer to the golden goddess occupying his tub.

_This is wrong, _thought Spike now completely mesmerized by her pouty lower lip, _Oh, pouty. . .look at that lip.. gonna get it.. gonna get it. _He stopped brusquely and caught himself before he jeopardized his career. _There's nothin' 'bout this exchange that elicits "friendly" behavior. THINK SPIKE! I'd lose my fuckin' job if anyone found out. But. . .but. . ., _his other thought said in disagreement, _she's so beautiful! They'd never find out._

Buffy watched Spike's internal struggles play across his face. Giggling and waving him over, she said seductively, "Care to join me?"

Picking up on her tone, he rasped out, "Buffy, I don't think that's a good idea."

Ignoring his rejection, Buffy calmly met his eyes and said, "Bend down could you?"

Without realizing it, Spike started to comply with her request. Kneeling down in front of the tub, while keeping his eyes glued to Buffy's, Spike watched as her hands gracefully loosened his tie.

Holding it in her pruned fingers and stretching it faintly, she observed, "Quite strong don't cha think? Could make one hell of a blindfold. . .or restraint for that matter."

Letting out the breath he had been holding, he studied her facial features with care, relishing in every frown, smile, and wrinkle of her brow. Entranced, Spike felt Buffy's light touch as she unbuttoned his shirt. He tenderly grabbed her hands, stopping her on his third button, and whispered, "Luv, you're playin' with fire." She silently smirked in acknowledgement while loosening his grip to continue.

"Have you ever thought maybe you're the one playing with fire?" she said gracefully gliding his dress shirt off his body in one swift motion. "Thought you'd look edible under there," she commented, grinning in his direction while tracing a finger down his abs. "Wonder what else is edible?" she questioned, letting her gaze travel down to Spike's bulge.

She giggled as his breath hitched and quickened. Feeling mischievous, Spike reached out to glide his fingers down Buffy's shoulder and she shuttered in response. Batting his hand away with a slap, she playfully scowled and said in a breathy voice, "Not your turn yet."

He pulled his hand back and Buffy's face brightened from a blush. She had power over him. Not just physically, but also mentally. Dru had been the powerful one in their relationship, but this was different. The caresses and the way Buffy spoke to him were sweet and playful, which he wasn't used to at all. He didn't know how he should react to her cute nature. Dru would have already tied him up and forcibly jerked him into submission. This, her gentleness, was new to him, and he found himself thoroughly enjoying her company. He didn't know how she did it, but her personality perfectly balanced a sweet and sexy woman. Not too rough or domineering, but also sassy and seductive. So many facets that he wanted to explore.

"Spike," said Buffy grabbing his face and touching his cheek with her thumb, "you still here?"

Yanked from his daydream, he put his hand over hers. "I'm here, pet. Just speechless is all."

"I like the sound of that," she said turning bashfully away from him to cover her blush that had now spread to her neck. "You make me so nervous," she admitted after a moment.

Mistaking her nervousness for fear, he stood planning to retreat to the living room when he sensed her hand on his belt buckle. She dragged him back to the side of the tub and said coyly, "Where'd you think you're going?"

"I don't want to force myself on you," he said in a disappointed tone.

Lingering for a moment, Buffy began unbuckling his pants leisurely. "Spike, look at me," she said pulling the belt off. He lowered his head in apprehension waiting for her to finish her thought. "I'm not nervous of you, I'm nervous because of you. I can't look at you without wanting to rip your clothes off. It's daunting, but at the same time, you make me feel desirable."

Opening and closing his mouth like a fish, he stood in complete silent. "I want you in here with me," said Buffy trying to sound as assertive as possible. Deciding she didn't need to wait for his reply, Buffy unbuttoned his pants and began struggling to pull them down. Again, Spike's hand grasped hers and he said breathing heavily, "This is the last layer." Understanding his message, she slid them down to reveal a very "happy" member.

Pouting, Buffy examined its size and gripped it with her hands. "It's a lot bigger than I thought," she said in all honestly. "I don't know if it'll fit, I'm pretty tight."

_Fuck that's brilliant, _he thought watching her hands run up and down his shaft stopping every so often to thumb his slit. _Feels so good, I'm gonna cum before we even start._

Containing his eagerness, Spike chocked out, "Luv, you keep doing that and you're gonna need 'nother bath."

Buffy let go promptly and Spike instantly regretted his statement. Just when he thought she was denying him like Dru used too, she scooched forward and said, "The water's still relatively hot. Why don't you come in before it gets cold?"

Unable to hide his happiness at her action, he felt the bath water and slithered in with a hiss.

_Damn water's gonna boil my skin off,_ he thought trying to stay calm and collected, _how's this relatively hot? _

As if she was reading his mind, Buffy turned on the cold water to adjust the temperature. "Feel better you big baby?"

"You're bloody brilliant," said Spike tilting forward to grace his fingertips across her should blades. "Anyone ever tell you that?"

At his touch, Buffy inclined into his body, feeling his hard length between her back and his torso. His hesitation to touch her was still evident. "You can put your arms around me, Spike. I don't bite. . . often." A fit of giggles erupted out of her mouth and she friskily scooped up some bubbles and wiped them across his nose.

Once again, Spike was dazed with her act and wondered how he could have gotten so lucky. Scooping up several bubbles into his palm, he planned to retaliate, but lost the chance when Buffy effortlessly slammed another handful of soapy bubbles onto his chin. Snickering, she turned around quickly in his lap and said pointing at his face, "Too slow!"

Releasing a heartfelt chuckle, he looked at her captivated and jokingly replied, "Oi. . .watch the face!" Still fully covered by bubbles, Buffy slinked onto his lap, allowing her legs to drape on both sides of his body. At her position change, Spike let out a hoarse breath and felt all his blood rush down south. Spike couldn't tell if she was deliberately rubbing her body against his throbbing length or if she genuinely didn't realize the affect she had on him. He guessed the latter, but remained silent watching her every move. Buffy leaned in to inspect his face and Spike could feel her body fully sliding over his form. He would do anything to see her fully naked, but the sensation she was giving him was too phenomenal to risk moving the bubbles and ruining the moment. Thinking she was going to kiss him, he bent slightly forward in response closing his eyes.

"Spike," Buffy whispered in his ear.

"Yes, luv?" said Spike trying to keep his hands to himself and his eyes closed.

"Don't ever grow a beard, okay?"

Spike's eyes burst open and Buffy subsequently splashed him with bath water taking him completely by surprise.

Observing his bubble free face, Buffy stated cheekily, "Much better," then began stroking his face with her hands.

Trying to reclaim the upper hand, Spike managed to think of a witty quip, but stopped when he felt Buffy's hands travel behind his head to his neck and back. Without another word, Buffy closed the space between them and caught Spike's lower lip with her mouth. Her hands embraced him forcefully, removing any space that had previously been between them.

Powerless to his overwhelming passion, Spike wrapped his body around Buffy's tiny frame, while managing to unclip her hair. He recoiled briefly to take in her messy sensual look and licked his lips at the sight. She was absolutely striking. Her eyes had gone from playful to lust filled in seconds and her intentions became quite clear.

Feeling Buffy grind into his hips with vigor, Spike reached out and drew her in for another deep kiss. Deciding to attempt going deeper, Spike ran his tongue along her lip. Breathlessly, Buffy allowed the action and they battled for dominance. He wanted to explore every part of her and she was more than willing to comply with his actions. At the sound of her raspy breathing several minutes later, Spike said through their kisses, "Are. . .you sure. . . you want to. . . do this?" He inhaled deeply while she withdrew to answer.

"I've wanted you in me since the first moment I laid eyes on you."

With her permission granted, Spike sank lower in the water to allow her to straddle him over his throbbing cock. He started nudging his length against her wet opening and she moaned in response.

Eyeing him below the water, Buffy said, "I meant what I said, I don't know if it'll fit. You're so big." She then snaked her hand under the water and pumped him several times feeling him pulsate underneath her touch. His eyes shut at the sensation, and he leaned his head against the back of the tub getting lost in the feeling.

"Spike," she tenderly whispered into his ear, while gently sucking and kissing his jaw toward his neck.

"Buffy," he panted lost in sensations she was giving him.

"You've been a naughty boy," a voice said hatefully spitting the words in his direction. His eyes shot open to reveal Dru straddling him, smiling wickedly while glaring into his eyes inches from his face. He was naked on his bed unable to free himself from the shackles she had used to bind his arms and legs to the headboard. Fully clothed, Dru reached out and clawed the side of his face with her pointy finger nails. Where Buffy had been kissing him affectionately, Dru continued to drag her nails along his jawline and cut zig zag patterns into his chest with a cackle.

Not remembering how he got here, he yelled in frustration over the loss of Buffy's warmth, "Get the fuck off me Dru!"

"I decide when we're done," she said humorlessly.

"Not this time," he spat trying to flip her off his hips in rage.

"Ah ah ah. . .my dark prince," she said waggling a finger in his face and tightening her grip on his hips, "my dollies say you need to be punished." Her smile turned up cruelly and Spike knew he was in trouble if he didn't get out of her chains. "I've brought your favorite game." She explained pulling a metal baton out from behind her and laughed joyously at his apparent dread of the object.

"That's not going anywhere near me," he snarled breaking the chains holding his limbs in place. "What the hell," he said in surprise rubbing his bare wrists.

Looking around his newly remolded bedroom, he thought, _When did I repair everything?_

Confused and unamused by the entire situation, he turned to get ahold of Dru, and realized he was alone.

"Dru," he yelled irritated by her games, "come out!"

Popping out from behind him, Dru said menacingly, "I see her all 'round you, dancing she is, like sunshine."

"Dru," he said exasperated, "I don't-," but was cut off by a slap to the face.

Getting propelled off his reclining chair, he fell to the ground abruptly in his living room. His head was spinning in circles. Exerting all of his energy, he fumbled over to the light switch and flicked it on to find his home was still in shambles. "How much did I bloody drink," he said running his hands through his hair. He peered around and spotted his entire Scotch collection empty on the floor.

"Fuckin' Scotch," he huffed in anger, "why'd you have to include Dru in my fantasy? Didn't even let me get to the good bits."

Feeling the sun on his back, he turned and put his hand over his eyes. _How long was I out? _He thought scrabbling around for his cell phone in his pants pockets. When he realized his belonging weren't in his pants, he noticed his jacket wasn't on his body or draped over the chair. He panicked momentarily and racked his brain. _Where's my suit jacket? My cell and wallet are in the sodding pockets._ Unable to think with a violent headache, he grabbed a few dollars out of his emergency money jar and shuffled over to the party story across the street. He was glad he had thought to put shades on because the sun was blinding.

Lowering his sunglasses, he searched for something to ease his pain. Finally, after several minutes he brought some aspirin and a bottle of water over to the cashier asking in a groggy tone, "Hey mate, got a paper and maybe the time?"

The old man looked up from his crossword and said eyeing his watch, "Paper's $2.50 and it's just after 3."

Paying for his items and grabbing his paper, Spike wobbled back to his flat feeling very hung-over. He reached out to grab his lobby's door, when he spotted Buffy holding his jacket. Afraid that he might look like death, he kept his sunglasses plastered on his face as he smiled.

"Buffy, what're you doing here luv?"

"Spike, are you okay," she said stunned by his smiling face.

"Yea, pet, of course, why'd you ask?"

"You haven't been in class for two days," she said genuinely concerned for his well-being.

Taking in her words, he flung the paper over to look at the date. _How the bloody hell is it already Wednesday? _He thought not remembering anything from the day before. _Did I really blackout that long?_

"Spike," Buffy said slowly edging closer to him and placing a hand on his arm, "are you alright?"

Getting pulled out of his confusion, he glanced at her in bewilderment and asked disregarding her first question, "How'd you know my nickname?"

Letting go of him in complete embarrassment, she glanced at the ground realizing her mistake. "I. . .well," she said trying to come up with an appropriate answer that didn't make her sound like a stalker.

Lifting her chin, Spike eyed Buffy closely not considering how intimate his touch had been. "It's fine, pet, you can tell me," he said softly.

"I. . .well," said Buffy stuttering and not looking directly into his eyes, "I. . .might have seen you and that dark haired woman talking about stuff. . .and she called you Spike. . .so I accidentally called you it too. I'm sorry."

Letting go of her chin in comprehension, he turned away completely mortified at her admission. _She saw me and Dru. Probably thinks I'm a complete wanker._

Misunderstanding his turn as anger, she grabbed his arm again and apologized profusely, "Spike. . .I mean William. . .I'm very sorry I watched your conversation. I was following you to give you back your jacket and I saw you guys talking." Taking a deep breath, she continued speaking quickly so the now fully focused Spike wouldn't have a chance to interject. "I was going to leave and then she said those horrible things to you and I wanted to punch her in the face for being so cruel, but then you had that huge speech and I couldn't interfere at that point, you know." Watching him nod his head in agreement, she kept going, "And then you gave her the ring and it was so heartbreaking I felt I shouldn't bug you while you were obviously dealing with a bad breakup. After you went upstairs, I was planning on ringing your buzzer, but I thought you might consider me crazy if I just barged in, so I went home. But then you didn't come to class and I was worried, so that's why I'm here. All I want to know is, are you okay?" Inhaling deeply, she let go of his arm and slumped over in exhaustion.

"Buffy," he said quietly, "I don't think you're crazy, quite the opposite actually." She peered up in surprise at his words and waited for him to continue. "That was very sweet of you to bring my jacket over. I was just wonderin' where I'd placed it. It's got my phone and wallet in it, so truly. . . I appreciate it."

Grabbing the jacket from her, he briefly grazed her hand with his fingertips.

"William," she said in a hopeful voice, "are we good?"

"Spike," he said swiftly, "you can call me Spike. But just you, it'll be our little secret. I have to stay professional in class, so I go by William when I'm at Rockwell, but my nickname's Spike."

"Spike," she said again liking the new title, "are we good?"

"We're good, pet."

"You'll definitely be in class tomorrow," she sternly asked. "I don't know if you can miss any more days without getting fired." She watched as he chuckled.

"I suppose you're right. Wouldn't want hall monitor Buffy to take me out."

She giggled at his comment and his head snapped up at the sound. _Sounds just like she did in my dream. _

"Well," she said not wanting to leave, "I've got to go. Work starts in a half-hour and it looks like you need to change."

"Huh?"

"You're wearing the same suit from Monday, and you smell like booze."

"Will do, mom," he said watching Buffy cringe. "I'm kiddin', luv, see you tomorrow."

They both backed away slowly and then turned in opposite directions.

_I'm glad he's okay, _thought Buffy stealing glances at Spike.

_My jacket smells like her, _Spike thought sniffing his jacket, _guess I won't be washin' it. _He smiled as he walked back to his flat in a better mood. _Now, time to fix my flat and find a new place to live._


End file.
